Romantic Vignettes
by Catherine Pugh
Summary: Formerly "Christmas Eve." Starts with Mulder and Scully on the Christmas Eve they went to the haunted mansion with Ed Asner the Ghost. Scully and Mulder realize the ghosts were right - they ARE lonely. Then we learn about how they get cozy.
1. Christmas Eve

Scully got nearly halfway home before pulling over in a parking lot. She couldn't help but feel enormous guilt for leaving Mulder, not after that bizarre encounter in the mansion. She still couldn't exactly process what happened. Poor Mulder. It began to dawn on her why he had called her out to the site in the first place – he was lonely. No more family, no friends to visit, nothing. She'd been so wrapped up in trying to ignore the fact that Christmas was the anniversary of her father's death, she'd completely ignored the fact that she'd come across as an asshole. Didn't see that Mulder wanted to ignore the loneliness of Christmas as much as she wanted to throw herself into her family to ignore the emptiness of her dad being gone. She turned the car around and drove back to Mulder's.

Mulder sat on the sofa, watching _A Christmas Carol._ The weight of the ghost's words echoed through his head, over and over. _Narcissist. Fanatic. Selfish. So lonely you'll go insane._ The ghost had hit him square in the heart. He tried not to cry as he remembered how much Samantha and he had looked forward every year to seeing that movie on the UHF channel. He missed having a family dreadfully. A slight pang of envy flashed over him when he thought about Scully spoiling her nephew and niece, and all the bustle of a Christmas family he never got to experience again after Samantha disappeared. The echoes of those happy years made him all the more aware of his bleak surroundings. At least Mrs. Scully would remember him tomorrow with a plate of her delicious jam thumb prints and chess pies, his favorite cookies. Scully's mom was a cookie whiz.

The door suddenly knocked. At first he thought it was his neighbors at it again, but it was his own door. Probably the landlord with his annual Christmas card. Nope, it was Scully.

"I couldn't sleep."

They talked a little about what had happened at the mansion, and both realized, and admitted to each other, that they were lonely workaholics. Mulder felt a lot of guilt about yanking Scully away from her family, but she felt as much guilt about not including him. Mulder decided to give her a present. She had one for him, too. They ran to the sofa, giggling a little, and opened them up together.

"Thanks, Scully. I'm glad you didn't get me a pack of tube socks."

"They weren't on special. But thanks for the Valentine's Day idea."

She sheepishly grinned as Mulder leafed through the first edition copy of '1984' that she had picked up at a book shop during her Christmas shopping expedition.

"How did you know this was my favorite book in high school?"

"Educated guess." She held the Einstein bobble-head figurine in her hand and laughed. "And this is priceless."

"It'll look sexy on your nightstand," laughed Mulder.

"I hope that bending the time-space continuum can apply to early morning alarms or pissed-off calls from Skinner."

"I hate to say this, but I'm glad you came here, Scully. I…I'm sorry about earlier. I really am. This time of year is hard."

"It is for me, too. It's been three years. I wish Dad had gotten to meet you - you would have gotten along."

"You must miss him a lot."

"Every day. But this is the worst time." Her face looked wistful. Mulder decided to lighten the mood.

"Scully, since we're both up, why don't we do something fun? You want a drink?"

Scully smiled and nodded enthusiastically. For some strange reason, as he suggested this, her heart felt fluttery, her stomach in knots, like the night Marcus asked her to the prom. Mulder got up to amble over to the kitchen. He pulled out a box of Franzia. Scully laughed when he placed it on the coffee table.

"Box wine, Mulder?"

"I was saving it for a special occasion, or a date, or something."

"Oh." She couldn't help it, but a flush grew on her cheeks when he brought up the word 'date.' Mulder noticed it immediately and grinned like the Cheshire cat.

"Don't get jealous or anything, Scully…it's been sitting in my kitchen for almost three years."

"I'm not jealous, hot shot. Pour away."

"You hungry?"

"A little."

She turned on the TV. "Let's watch a movie. Oh, I have something for you in the car. From Mom. She wants you to eat them all."

"I bet I can guess what they are."

"Those chess pies are pretty damn good."

The next movie on the channel Mulder had on was _It's A Wonderful Life_. After a couple of drinks, Scully confessed to Mulder that she adored Jimmy Stewart, and her favorite scene was when Mary and George fell in love talking on the phone. Mulder said he loved the part where Mr. Potter barked "Happy New Year to you…in JAIL."

"You ever wish you were in an old movie, Scully?" asked Mulder, downing his third glass of wine.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm in one."

"How so?"

"Oh, I don't know."

She trailed off. _"…Because no one ever makes out until the end of the movie," _she thought.

"I'd like to be in a Marx brothers movie. Like when they're playing all the crazy music and everything's like a cartoon," mused Mulder.

By 3:30 AM, half the box was kicked, half the cookies eaten, and Scully was sound asleep against Mulder's shoulder…half snoring. Mulder watched the movie, munching on thumb prints, feeling none of that lonely pang than before. Scully was there. No sad night alone. He looked down at the sleeping Scully, and it hit him like a ton of bricks. The crumbs on her chest from the cookies, the half smile on her face. She had never looked more lovely. He put his arm around her and dared to stroke her hair a little.

"Scully," he whispered softly, not exactly wanting to break the spell, but his arm was falling asleep.

She snorted.

"What time is it?"

"Nearly four."

"Oh. Yeah, I don't think I'm going to make the 6 AM Scully roll call. I'm in no shape to drive."

"It's okay. You can phone your mother later."

"I'm so tired."

"You can stay here, if you want."

"I do. I will."

"Want me to clean off my bed?"

Scully sleepily nodded and fell back asleep. Mulder walked into the bedroom and cleaned off the bed. The four-poster waterbed nightmare was gone, but the ceiling still had the mirror. It kind of creeped him out. He still had no idea why the landlord had decided to remodel out of the blue.

Scully was well-aware of Mulder's infamous porn collection in his closet, but he suddenly felt really self-conscious of it. He took the magazines to the garbage chute and dropped them. The super would enjoy that. He went in the bathroom, changed into pyjama pants and his Knicks shirt, and brushed his teeth. He laid out some clothes for Scully to change into – sleeping in her suit looked uncomfortable.

Scully changed into his pyjamas. She was still pretty drunk, and her tiny frame looked absurd in his clothes. She laughed when she caught a glimpse of herself in his ceiling mirror.

"Come on, hot shot," he teased, while she flashed him a grin, "let me tuck you in before Santa gets here."

Scully took his hand as he fluffed up the pillows for her and covered her with the comforter. Scully was surprised at how comfortable Mulder's bed was, and wondered fleetingly why he used it as a storage unit.

"Where will you sleep, Mulder? I'm not kicking you out of your room, am I?"

"I usually sleep on the sofa."

"Oh. I…this might just be the wine talking, but would you like to sleep here? I…I really wouldn't mind."

Mulder's heart skipped a beat. This was getting dangerous, fast. On one hand, he wanted so desperately to continue the physical contact they'd had on the sofa; to hold her or be with her, like that night in the woods when he slept in her lap and she sang to him. He wanted…craved…more of that intimacy. But this was Scully. He had been in this sticky situation before. Phoebe and Diana…they seemed so far away.

"I mean…there's plenty of room. And your apartment is freezing. Come here, let's get warm."

"I never thought you'd ask me to sleep with you, not in a million years."

"Shush." She smiled and put her finger to her lips. "If we don't get to sleep, the reindeer will pass us by."

She slid over and Mulder climbed into bed with her. He had to admit - it felt so nice having her close to him, her arm flopped around his chest. She snuggled against him. He felt the warmth of her body against where his shirt had slightly ridden up. He pulled the comforter up around her shoulders and kissed her on the head. As he lay there staring at them lying on the bed together, he hoped she wasn't cognizant enough to notice the profound physical effect this had on him. God, he wanted her. It could never happen. It was ridiculous. They'd seen each other naked before, they'd snuggled before, this really wasn't THAT strange.

"Good night, Mulder," she whispered.

"Good morning, Scully," he whispered back, putting his arm around her. They slept soundly, dreamlessly, peacefully, wrapped comfortably in each other's arms.

She awoke before him, at nearly 11 AM. She momentarily panicked. Her family must be worried sick. Bill would chew her out and make a scene. As she thought about it, the idea of being with the Scully clan seemed less and less appealing. As she looked over at Mulder, her heart melted. She didn't want to wake him up. That selfish little feeling of having him all to herself crept into her heart, but she didn't dare admit she wanted more than a night of innocent cuddling. She was a little embarrassed by her needy clinging last night, but deep down she was glad she'd coerced Mulder into bed with her. She needed the comfort. She kissed him on the cheek.

"Merry Christmas," he mumbled, "What time is it?"

"Time to wake up, elf," she said. "I blew it with my family. Totally blew it. I should probably call them so they don't think I'm in danger or anything."

"Go ahead."

"If I can make amends, would you like to come over to Chez Scully with me as my special guest?"

"Really? I wouldn't be intruding?"

"Not in the least, Mulder. Mom likes you. Bill's another story, but he can be a dick. And you've never met Charles. He's coming in this afternoon from Philadelphia."

"I'd like that, Scully. Promise it's not out of pity?"

"No. I just like having you around, that's all. The kids would like you a lot. I can guarantee by the evening they'll have you decorated with tinsel and gift bows. Which is good, because I was "Christmas Tree" last year."

"I bet you looked very shiny." Mulder pulled Scully back down to lay next to him. Now was the time to kiss her, you dope. She's IN YOUR BED.

Scully laughed, picked up a pillow, and bopped him on the chest with it. She wanted Mulder to kiss her. They had just CUDDLED ALL NIGHT.

But it wasn't to be, that moment. Both froze, tried shaking off the evening as one wild event, and after Scully dressed, she sheepishly phoned her mother with a thousand apologies. She told the partial truth, that she'd had too much wine and passed out. Her mother's laughter made things feel much better. Scully asked if it would be okay to bring Mulder along. Of course it would be fine.

Mulder appeared in the living room, fully dressed in a red hoodie with a green scarf and jeans. Scully laughed.

"You do look like an elf."

"If you're good I'll make you a special toy."

"Okay, elf. Let's head over to the Scully ranch," she smiled, tossing him the car keys.


	2. Over The Rain King

"I really don't care for Kansas," sighed Scully, flopping down on the motel bed. She toed off her shoes.

"Dust in the wind, Scully. All we are is dust in the wind," responded Mulder drolly, as he perused the weather reports at the desk. He had a bowl of sunflower seeds and was picking them apart methodically, like a squirrel. "You hungry?"

It was a couple of months since Christmas, and the agents were investigating strange weather patterns in the heartland. The motel owners, mistaking Scully and Mulder for a couple, had moved Mulder's items to Scully's room after the cow fell through the roof. The situation was slightly awkward, but secretly both Mulder and Scully were perfectly fine with the arrangement. Mulder hoped maybe Scully might get tipsy with wine again.

"Very funny. I'm starving, but all I want is Indian food."

"Gonna be hard to find in rural Kansas. I doubt they even have decent pizza here."

Scully rolled her eyes in frustration. Her stomach growled.

"I heard that," laughed Mulder.

"Well, my stomach does not lie. We have any food?"

"We can go out to the diner for dinner. My treat."

"If you can call it a treat. As you said, this is Kansas."

Mulder nodded and chuckled, then switched on the TV."I'm gonna check the baseball score before we head out, Scully. You mind?"

"No, go ahead. I'll go take a quick shower."

"Oh, hope you don't mind my boxers, I stuck them on the towel rack."

"The towel rack?"

"Well, I didn't want you to yell at me for throwing them on the floor before my shower."

Scully laughed at him from the bathroom and mischievously popped her head out the door.

"I never would have figured you for a plaid guy."

"They were on sale."

Scully hopped in the shower and let the hot water roll over her.

_In college, Scully threw herself into her work to avoid boys. When Daniel, her professor, propositioned her, it was the first time any man had ever really paid attention to her mind instead of ignoring her plump body. It was flattering. She felt attractive for the first time – to be noticed by someone older and smart. Sadly, it ended in humiliation when the affair was found out. _

_She'd once shyly confided in her friend Kathy that she thought Mulder was cute, but when Kathy suggested she look at him as potential boyfriend material, Dana shut down again and dismissed him as a jerk. She hated herself for doing that. Mulder was never a jerk to her. Quite the contrary, after dealing with all those alpha male horse's asses in the Academy. _

_Anyway. If Mulder had really wanted her, he would have made a move at Christmas when she made a play for some cuddle time. _

As Scully showered, Mulder's mind began to wander to dangerous zones. He tried to put it out of his mind, but when she emerged from the shower and came into the room to get the hair dryer, wearing her pretty royal blue satin kimono, Mulder didn't know how to react, so he leaned back in the chair and suddenly started blamming out some air guitar.

"Bow-wow-wowwww! Look at you! Carry on, my wayward soooonnn! Join me, Scully!"

Scully pretended she was annoyed, but she secretly loved it when he randomly cut loose. She laughed and tried to sing and failed horribly, to Mulder's surprised delight.

"Uh, there'll be peace when you are…ahhh, Mulder. I'll spare you."

"Did you sing tenor in high school?" Scully's face got beet red, and Mulder stammered, realizing he'd made her embarrassed. "Scully. I'm sorry. You sing just fine. I like when you sing to me."

"Cute. Well, tomorrow we'll take you to get your ears tested for deafness." She tossed his shirt at him. He smiled.

"That reminds me. Did you ever work with Regional Director Gordon Cole, Scully?"

"I had him during code training. His classes are legendary at the Academy," Scully said, toweling her hair. "Bigger reputation than ol' Spooky, even. I hear he recently married a much younger diner waitress."

"Good for him!" smiled Mulder.

She popped back into the bathroom. "I don't know about you G-Men," she finished, closing the door.

The hair dryer hummed pleasantly as Scully fixed her hair. Mulder didn't exactly know how to act, having Scully around in these little domestic moments. He secretly loved it.

_Mulder, you idiot. Why can't you ever say how you feel about her without it coming out as some wisecrack or immature catcall? He kicked himself all the time for not putting the moves on her at Christmas when she'd stayed over. But as ferocious as Scully could get, he was afraid to catch her off-guard. But he never really wanted to hurt her. So everything came out in a passive aggressive attempt to get her to make out with him. He'd never really had a challenge before – most women had thrown themselves at him. But Scully…she was different. Bewitching. _

_She'd once revealed her innermost weakness to him, that self-consciousness of hers that she had once been overweight. Mulder felt awful about that, and realized that was likely the root of her defensiveness. But he found her ethereal beauty utterly captivating from the first day forward. Scully assumed that he wanted women who looked like his porn collection…but in reality, he preferred the smart, capable ones. Scully stirred his heart like no other. And she was impossible to crack._

Scully emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed in casual jeans and a cute Henley top.

"I'm so hungry, G-Man…" she laughed. "…I could eat a cow."

"Very funny. I bet you spent that whole shower thinking about that one-liner."

As they sat in the diner together, eating their meatloaf (Mulder) and tuna melt (Scully), Scully remarked that despite them being in bumblefuck nowhere, she was actually having a good time. It was a case that didn't involve anything dramatic, just a weird love triangle and bizarre weather patterns. Mulder agreed and saw a reason to touch her. A gross reason. He reached across the table.

"Mulder…" she said, softly.

He gently pulled it from her hair and showed her the piece of lettuce. Her face grew 50 shades of red.

"Ugh. Gross. Sorry," she said, laughing as her mouth was still full.

_She was really, really going to town on that sandwich. Mulder dug into the garlic potatoes. They were real potatoes. He was exceedingly happy about this. They smiled at each other as a Kenny Rogers song began to play. This place was so bizarre. Mulder was glad Scully had a weird sense of humor and appreciated weird little field trips as this. He couldn't imagine Phoebe or Diana ever enjoying this excursion. Neither had much patience for "local color." Scully pretended she hated being dragged to these places, but both of them knew she loved it._

_Mulder gazed at her as she picked at her fries. For a fleeting moment, he wanted to just say it. That he wanted her. _

From the window outside, Sheila only saw Mulder reaching for Scully's hair, which to her looked like a tender moment between the two, while the little redhead stuffed her face. _This would be easy competition_, she thought. _Agent Scully is such a hog. Mr. Mulder is going to want a classy woman like me. He looks like he knows a thing or two about how to make a woman happy._

Sheila walked into the diner to pick up Holman's and her takeout order, confident as can be, and came up behind Mulder, suddenly running her fingers through his hair.

Storm clouds gathered over the diner, as lightning flashed all around.

"Aaaaaagent Mulder. Fancy seeing you here. Oh, hello, Agent Scully."

Scully looked up and stifled a laugh. Mulder's face went red.

"Oh, hello, Sheila." Before she could sit next to him, he got up and slid next to Scully. Sheila, slightly put out but not discouraged, plopped down and started eating some of Mulder's potatoes.

"I just love these, don't you?" she said, drawing a heart in the potatoes and winking. Hail began to fall outside.

"Mulder, the car," said Scully.

"Insurance covers freak storms," Mulder replied, noticing Holman sitting out in the parking lot, fuming.

Sheila could see it. The love they shared.

She realized the stakes were higher than she thought to win the agent of her dreams. Oh well. Holman was out in the car. The weather began to subside as she got up and sauntered toward the door.

"I better go," she said. "Holman's waiting for me. Oh no! Looks like a bad storm! Well, I'll see you later, then. Have a good night."

After she left, Scully shoved Mulder out of the seat. She didn't really want him to move, but she didn't want him to think she wanted to get so cozy. It was already going to be awkward enough sharing a room that night.

"All I know is, we have to turn Sheila away from me and play Cupid with Holman. Because I want to go the hell home, too," he said, laughing.

"What's waiting for you there, Mulder? Got a hot date with your next issue of Celebrity Skin?"

"That's not fair, Scully." Mulder sounded genuinely hurt. He really was lonely at home. He should have just said "I want to get away from that _bimbo, Sheila."_

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I really am. I was just being a smartass."

"I know. No worries. Let's call it a night." He paid the waitress, and they left the restaurant.

Back at the motel, Scully changed into her pyjamas, cracked open a beer from the mini bar, and Mulder lounged on the bed watching TV. An old movie was playing. Scully flopped down beside him and set her beer on the side table.

"No funny business tonight, Mulder."

"C'mon, Scully. How often do we get to share a bed?" He patted the space next to him, arching his eyebrows.

"You don't want to split and get a two-week suspension for consorting with female agents on the job, do you? We're already under suspicious circumstances with Accounting."

"No, but since when do we ever follow protocol anyway?"

Scully decided it would be safer to change the subject.

"What's on?" she asked, pointing at the TV.

"**What Ever Happened To Baby Jane? **Classic."

"Never seen it."

"You're in for a treat, Scully. These ladies mean business."

Scully chugged the rest of her beer and sat indian-style on the bed. This impressed Mulder, and even turned him on a little. She was such a strange woman. One minute she was Miss Conservative, no-nonsense, deadpan, focused completely on work. The next, she was cackling at Bette Davis serving up dead birds. At that minute, Mulder wanted her desperately. But it was like approaching a hostile animal. Scully could turn on a dime if Mulder stole a smooch out of her. Better to play it safe. Things were left so ambiguous at Christmas.

Scully ended up drinking four of the mini-fridge beers, and made a mental note to ask the motel owner to draw up a separate bill for them, so it wouldn't draw attention to Accounting. She could get into big trouble. Sigh. If she was going to share a bed with Mulder that night, she at least wanted to calm down her nerves.

Her thoughts came truer than she anticipated. Mulder looked over after a spell and Scully was completely sacked out, curled on her side like…a little baby kitten. Her angelic face made his heart melt. Creepy as it sounded, he loved seeing Scully asleep, her mocking eyes closed, her cherubic mouth in a half-smile, her red hair scrunched under her head.

Mulder watched the rest of the movie, set the alarm, and curled on his side facing her. He wished he could scooch over and hold Scully against him, but decided it would be a bad idea. She might shove him off the bed entirely. So he rolled as close as reasonably possible and drifted off himself.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

The alarm went off at 8:00 AM sharp.

The pair awoke to find themselves completely entwined. Sometime during the night, Scully drunkenly rolled over and draped her arm around Mulder, and he did the same to her. Neither remembered doing this, but they sheepishly awoke, realized their situation, and laughed.

"Morning, sunshine," said Mulder.

"I can't believe I did that," said Scully.

"I didn't mind," Mulder laughed. "…Did you?"

"We'd better head over to the weather station," Scully deadpanned, her reddening cheeks betraying her true feelings. She grabbed her clothes and dressed. _Danger zone, Scully._

"Okay, honey."

"Honey me again and you'll be walking around on a peg leg with Daryl."

As she changed in the bathroom, Mulder smiled, thinking about how nice it was to wake up with Scully clinging to him.

And Scully thought the same thing.


	3. On The Road To Arcadia

Scully had been summoned to A.D. Skinner's office. She found Mulder seated in front of the desk, holding a large file.

"Sir? What's this about?" she asked.

"You will be checking out this situation in this gated community," said Director Skinner. "It's called The Falls at Arcadia. You and Agent Mulder will depart at 6 PM tonight. Tickets are at the desk."

"Sir?" faltered Scully, her heart beginning to pound. Mulder smiled at her.

"You and Agent Mulder will be entirely undercover," Skinner continued. "We have purchased a house in which you will stay as first time home-buyers. Your names are Rob and Laura Petrie."

"You've got to be kidding," grumbled Scully. "And who came up with those names? I'm surprised we didn't get named Mike and Carol Brady. This sounds like Director Cole's doing."

"Regional Director Gordon Cole watched a lot of TV before he lost his hearing," deadpanned Skinner, handing them their outfits. "But this was Agent Mulder's name choice, so blame him."

Scully shot Mulder a withering look. Mulder held up his hand and laughed.

"You are Rob and Laura Petrie from this day forward until the investigation comes to a close," snapped Skinner. "Cole faxed me the briefing this afternoon, which you will review on the plane. He felt you two were the best agents suited for the job. Your assignment is to find out who murdered the Kleins, the previous owners of this particular house. You will find the accommodations quite comfortable, but of course the usual consorting rules apply to undercover work. Brush up on your acting skills and figure out what the hell is going on. This case is extraordinarily sensitive, so no one can suspect what you're up to or who you are."

"Thank you, sir," said Mulder. "We'll behave. Oh. I need someone to look after my fish. I don't think they'll be comfortable in the move."

"Alright. We'll have movers bring in the investigative equipment when you head out, and we'll have someone feed them when necessary. We've packed an assortment of faux living provisions to make the home look believable. A basketball hoop is included, as a test to see whether the community board approves. Please make note as to their reactions to unacceptable lawn decoration."

"Much appreciated. In the meantime, it'll be nice to shoot some hoops in the driveway."

Mulder put his arm around Scully as they walked down the hall.

"Heyyy, we're married now, Mrs. Spooky." He tried to peck her cheek.

"C'mon. Knock it off, Mulder, I've got to run home and pack."

"Just you wait until we get home," Mulder said. "I'll make us some heart-shaped chocolate chip cookies."

"Mulder, if you really want to win my heart, meet me at my place at 4:30 so we can get to the airport on time."

"Okay. I'll meet you there."

_Scully darted down the hall away from Mulder as fast as she could. When she got on the Metro, safely alone for a few minutes, she got her focus back. Gaaah, Skinner! Cole! Undercover work? She was a lousy actress. Rob and Laura Petrie? Like the dish? She once lost a part in a school play because she kept calling one of the characters by the actor's real name. She was terrible at undercover work. And this could go on for weeks, alone with Mulder in a large house. Sharing a bathroom? She'd never shared a bathroom with anyone before that wasn't her family. This was going to take all of her defenses. Maybe there were two bathrooms._

Mulder drove over to Scully's place, dressed in the pink shirt. He looked ridiculous. His mother made him wear those shirts and blazers in high school. Preppy. Ugh.

Scully had changed into the sweater and skirt, and looked pretty, but somewhat matronly. Still, he was kind of excited to share a house with Scully for a spell. Playing house was something he'd always kind of wanted to try.

After they stepped off the plane and secured the van rental, Scully and Mulder spent the hour drive to the community practicing answers and their names, to fend off potential suspicion.

As expected, Mulder made his usual wisecracks when introducing themselves to the gated community people…a weird bunch, for sure. The creepy kind of people who think like a tribe, don't treasure individuality, and host lame wine and cheese dinner parties where you have to do small talk. Scully panicked, knowing she'd never fit in...and got paranoid that Mulder was going over the top. He was being such a dork about this.

The house they were staying at was admittedly quite lovely, but not her taste – she was more of an old-fashioned girl at heart. She always secretly dreamt of living on a country farm. Anyway it wasn't really their house. They were just doing there job.

Ugh. There went Mulder again making some crack about carrying her over the threshold, then he made a crack about making a dirty video (Skinner was gonna love that, she still hadn't figured out how to edit that thing), then he did some hillbilly thing where he wanted a sandwich. Scully had enough and threw her gloves at him. Mulder was stepping into obnoxious territory.

The investigation did turn serious that evening. After searching through the front yard for some weird happenings, Scully decided to take a shower. Scully was on the phone when he walked into the master bedroom. Even though she was going over the case, finding Big Mike's necklace in the gutter, a bunch of things ran through the back of her mind.

_I mean…we are supposed to be a married couple. What if one of them broke in and found us sleeping in separate rooms? Or they passed our home and saw me? The jig would be up. We'd have to come up with some excuse. We might as well just do it._

She tried fending off these rationales by barking orders at Mulder about the toothpaste and toilet seat. She scrubbed her face and put on a green mask for her pores. This Stepford Wife makeup was making her break out.

_For Christ's sake, Dana, he's a guy. You have two brothers. You know guys do that. You're just being bossy for the sake of being an asshole._

Mulder wasn't fazed. Again, with the jokes. She walked in the room and he kicked off his sneakers and pretended he wanted her in bed with him. She knew she looked like shit. He ALWAYS did something like this to tease her, and she didn't like it because it played with her feelings. She threw him out of the room.

"Goodnight. Mulder."

"The thrill is gone," he said, mockingly, as he got up and went to his room. Scully felt bad…partly because she half wanted to take him up on the invitation, partly because their neighbors' food didn't agree too well with her.

After a few minutes, Scully scrubbed off her face and popped her head in Mulder's room. He was lying shirtless on his stomach on the large bed, watching an old movie on TV, drinking a can of root beer. It was all they had in the fridge. Scully didn't trust the orange juice – Mulder probably was the type to drink from the carton. He hated doing dishes.

"Come in to make up, hot stuff?" he asked, staring at the TV.

"Sorry about that. I'm just really tired and not feeling too great," she said. "I still get PMS, even after all that. And I'm at a loss on this case. It's bugging me. There's no plausible answers, and I hate that."

"It's okay, I know," he smiled. "I'm just glad you're no longer green."

"This makeup is not agreeing with my skin. I don't like it. I'm itchy and bitchy." She sat down next to him, took the root beer from his hand, and stole a swig. "Stupid Irish genepool."

"Hey!" he said. "No backwash."

"Look who's talking. I know all about your orange juice secrets."

"Alright, fair enough. There's more downstairs if you're THAT thirsty."

"In all seriousness, Mulder, do you think Big Mike was murdered by one of the neighbors? After seeing that little dog…" She trailed off, remembering Queequeg.

"I don't know what to think. This place is bizarre. Let's just rest for tonight. Nothing will be clear until we get some. Rest. Get some rest," he stammered, catching Scully's eye. Shit, he was going to make her mad again.

"Scooch over," she said.

"What?"

"I said, scooch over. I want to watch TV, too."

Mulder did as she asked.

"Ooh. Scully. Are we consummating our vows?"

"If you mean the paperwork we filled out all afternoon for this gig, no. But yours is the only room with a TV, and I'm jealous."

"You didn't think to bring one, Scully?"

"No. What's on?"

"_Now, Voyager_. It just started. Have you seen it?" Scully shook her head no. "Did you know this complex gets Turner Classic Movies? No commercials, Scully! This is one of my favorites."

The one thing Mulder and Scully did have in common was a fondness for old movies. Neither were interested in cop dramas – there were plenty – and television stunk for the most part. But both could find common ground in a sappy old film.

Once, during a car trip, they amused themselves by doing impressions of old movie stars. Mulder did a fair Humphrey Bogart. Scully impressed Mulder with her dead-on Norma Desmond. Mulder had laughed his ass off with that one as she put up her claws and did the weird low throaty purr. Scully was funny when she let down her guard. Really funny.

Scully plopped down right next to him, on her stomach. She was swaddled in that white robe. Her freshly-washed hair smelled like apples. Mulder loved that fragrance.

After a while, Mulder looked over and saw Scully's face all crumpled up, with tears. She was engrossed in the movie, when Bette Davis's lost love somehow weirdly resolved itself in a different way. Mulder instinctively pulled her over to him and put his arm around her. Scully felt embarrassed that she'd shown any emotion over the film, but Mulder's gesture of affection didn't make her feel weak. She let herself fall against his side.

"It's silly, isn't it? The whole plot is so implausible," she commented drily, "but you can't help but feel so sorry for them."

"They love each other and found a way to make it work against the odds."

Something in Mulder's tone, and specifically what he said, made Scully's heart pound. He could feel it against him, through her thin little ribcage. He wanted to kiss her desperately, but Scully suddenly got up and ran to the bathroom to clean her face. She simply couldn't take the risk - if Mulder actually kissed her, she felt sure she'd tumble like a card house, and they could lose everything they'd built together. Suddenly, as she looked at her lonely, sad face in the mirror, she started to sob.

Mulder could hear her wrenching crying from his bedroom. He got up and walked to the door.

"Scully? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she snuffled, airily.

"Anything wrong?"

"No, nothing. Don't worry about me, Mulder."

"I'm sorry."

Scully popped her redfaced, puffy face out the door.

"PMS is a bitch, Mulder," she croaked.

"Oh, that." He pulled her close to him into a big bear hug and rubbed her back. "It happens. Don't worry. Get some sleep, G-Woman."

"Good night, Mulder."

"Good night, Scully."


	4. Household Goods

Scully decided to make up for the night's embarrassment by making themselves some breakfast. Even though they were on assignment, it felt good to actually have some time to putter around the house, even if she was playing pretend. She snuck out early that morning to the grocery store down the road and stockpiled some actual food. Mulder would be passed out until at least eleven – he always slept in on weekends. She knew, however, that the heavenly aroma of frying bacon would wake Mulder immediately. Plus, she couldn't wait to get her little paws on the amazing kitchen goodies stocked in the house. It made her positively giddy to have some time to really cook something, for once!

Omelettes, with buttered toast. Hot coffee. The "good" jam. Freshly-squeezed orange juice. This kitchen was heavenly. Her own small kitchen back at home was functional, but this was unreal: all new appliances, top of the line. Brand new dishes. The refrigerator was like walking into the future. She stood in front of it for a second, marveling at its design.

Suddenly, a sleepy man in a polo shirt appeared in the doorway, his arms outstretched, zombie-like.

"Braaaaains…." he moaned.

"Well, good morning, sunshine!" Scully chirped. "I'm afraid all I have is this delicious applewood smoked baaaacon," she sang, dangling a piece in front of him as he came around the counter. He bit it with a fake zombie snap. "I don't know why the grocery store only has this yuppie food, but wow, I could get used to it."

"Thuuut wulll dooooo," he crunched, in his zombie voice. Suddenly, he sprang back to normal. "What's all this wonderful yumminess, Scully? You aroused me with thine heavenly scents." He playfully rubbed her back.

Scully, determined not to be distracted from her omelette pan, skittered around pretending to be busy, and retorted with a cheeky response that nearly made Mulder melt into a puddle.

"Well, Mulder, by the time you've finished this breakfast, you'll be basking in serious afterglow. Hope you're hungry."

"I can't remember anyone ever making such a breakfast feast for me, other than my mom. I'm delightedly hungry," he responded.

"Then go sit over there. You're in for a real treat, Mulder. _Deep Secrets of Dana Scully #14:_ I make the world's best omelettes."

Mulder grinned, sat at the table, and buttered some toast squares. He gazed at Scully dashing around the kitchen, like a kid in a candy shop. She was so adorable in those white pyjamas, her little half-kimono floating around behind her. He loved seeing her relaxed, even giddy. _You're in deep, Fox, real deep. _

"I'm sorry I yelled at you to make me a sandwich yesterday," he said suddenly, meaning it.

"I'm **not** sorry I threw my gloves in your face," she smiled. The omelettes were done, the bacon perfectly crisp, the coffee hot, and both agents were starving.

"Do you need some help bringing anything to the table?" he asked. Scully shrugged and said sure. He brought over the plates. As Scully was about to sit down, he ran around the table and pulled out the chair for her.

"Why, Mulder, fiddle dee dee. What a gentleman you are this morning."

Mulder responded by kissing the top of her head. Scully pretended not to dwell on the hot spot he left behind with his lips.

"That's why I created you in the basement, Stepford Wife." Scully giggled.

They tore into their omelettes. Mulder was in heaven. Scully wasn't bullshitting him…these were utterly incredible. Each bite oozed cheese, broccoli, and mushrooms.

Scully cheerfully ladled out some of the good jam on her toast.

"How is it, Mulder?"

"I love y…ummy food like this." He cleared his throat a little to save face.

Scully's face turned beet red and she gulped down her coffee so she'd have something to blame for the sudden heat in her face. It certainly did not go unnoticed by Mulder.

"Scully…I…" His face bled earnestness – so much so, it scared Scully.

"Oh, Mulder. I'm sorry I was so crazy last night," she began to babble. "We've been so busy lately, and I'm all emotional. You know. Lady things."

Mulder put down his toast, his heart pounding. He'd have to diffuse this with humor.

"I'm sorry I was pestering you so much yesterday, too. You know, I actually like playing house with you. Trust me, you're way better than a roommate I had at Oxford. He had…a secret women's lingerie collection in his closet."

"NO!" Scully nearly did a coffee spit take.

"Yes. So naturally, I was wondering if you did, too."

"As a matter of fact, I keep it in my bureau. My FEDERAL bureau."

Mulder was still briefly hung up on his wild imagination. "Good, I'm sure it looks much better on you." _Oooh, dammit - too far, Mulder! _he thought. Immediately, Mulder felt his own face flush hotly, both wondering what she'd look like in it and wondering who the hell she might have bought it for. Scully, reading him like a book, giggled.

"In faaaact, I'm wearing some of it now," she mocked. "Sorry, Mulder - for me, satin jammies are as racy as it gets. Twelve years of Catholic school rears its ugly head."

Mulder smiled weakly. That was a close one. He didn't want any more risks of pissing off Scully or seeming too forward, so he finished his toast and cleared the dishes to try to keep himself distracted. He loved being in a home with her. Even though it was pretend, it just seemed right. Diana and Phoebe would never be this homey. Phoebe would have just hired a cook. And Diana never ate. Scully finished up her coffee and started puttering around the kitchen again. Mulder got up and started filling the sink.

"Oh, that's okay, Mulder, I can clean up. I made the mess."

"It's the least I can do, after being such a glutton," he replied. "Besides, I kind of like playing Stepford Husband. Here. Hand me your apron." Scully threw it over his head playfully and tied the strings.

"Lovely," she smiled.

She ran upstairs to change. Mulder lamented losing the vision of beautiful secret Dana, as he finished clearing up the kitchen in the meantime, thinking about with tousled hair. Such a change from the well-kempt hair of the office.

He honestly had no idea how long the two of them would be playing husband and wife in this weird yuppie McMansion. They had plenty to do – namely, figuring out what happened to Big Mike – but what loomed larger in his mind was the vague hope that maybe Scully wouldn't shove him out of the master bedroom again. Unless she was up to watching "Thunderdome" on TBS that night.

"Well, we have a long day ahead of us, lounging by the pool and firing up the grill later for this dopey BBQ," she commented, coming down the stairs a few minutes later in her yuppie housefrau outfit, putting in her earrings. "How do people live in these creepy gated communities, anyway? I don't have anything in common with these nutjobs, despite what you think."

"You're orderly and neat," he said, scrubbing the pans.

"But you can't have a rebellious spirit."

"YOU, Scully? A rebel?"

"I have a whole volume of _Deep Secrets of Dana Scully,_ Mulder."

"Okay, then since I did the dishes, why don't you divulge five of them? Rebel Edition_._" Mulder put down the dish towel and wiped down the counter.

"Okay. Only five…today."

Mulder smiled. This was going to be interesting.

"One. Were you ever grounded, and why?"

"Yes. Once was because I dyed my hair purple."

Mulder laughed out loud.

"My parents were livid. I was 16 and really into punk and goth stuff," Scully continued, laughing at the contrast of her wild past and her current state of perfect clothing. "I'd gone with my friend Karen down to the thrift shop and found a bunch of cool clothes, and I turned myself into a punk girl. I must have looked completely absurd, but I thought I looked great." She smiled dreamily. Another life.

"I can't picture you as a punk fan, Scully. You never bring any Sex Pistols tapes on our road trips."

"I was more into Siouxsie and the Banshees and Joy Division," she retorted snottily.

"Good lord." Mulder laughed.

"…I know what you like," she said, after a few seconds' pause. Mulder started laughing. "…what MUSIC you like," she finished, knowing exactly why he started to laugh. "Why are you laughing? This game isn't turning out to be much fun."

"I was laughing because I thought I knew you so well, and yet you keep me surprised at every corner. I'd have pegged youuuu for a Phil Collins fan."

Scully made a gagging gesture. "Mulder, I know damn well you were the kind of kid who listened to Black Sabbath, so why is it so weird I was into goth?"

"Really, Scully? Vampire shit? This means you have some Bauhaus squirreled away, don't you?"

"Well, you have four more questions," she replied. "Fire away!"

Mulder finished the last dish and plopped next to her on the sofa, facing her. She mirrored his movement and faced him back, her mocking eyes dancing. They both draped their arms on the back of the sofa, their hands nearly touching. Suddenly Mulder's face shone forth some serious vibes that frightened Scully.

"Scully, I…ahem. I don't know how to ask this."

She reddened as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Ask what?" She felt her heart begin to pound against her chest. She felt sure he could see it through her shirt.

"Scully…have you thought much about that day in the hallway?" He saw her face get red and instantly regretted asking.

"Mulder, we…"

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

The doorbell startled them. Outside was Vin, grinning and holding another giant box of china. He could see them through the glass window. He waved when they looked up, furious and shocked.

Scully ran to the door and opened it. Mulder cursed his bad luck and wandered elsewhere before he punched out Vin's grinning teeth.

The spell was broken.


	5. The Milagro of Cooking

She clutched at him for dear life, shaking and crying.

"Shh. It's okay, Scully. It's okay," Mulder repeated over and over, as if the mantra could calm them both down. Just moments before he thought he was staring at her corpse; his throat had gone dry and he could barely swallow. He felt her heart pounding against his in terror.

"Oh my god. Oh my god." Scully's memory flashed back horrible scenes of Donnie Pfaster, Duane Barry. How many times would she have to go through this scenario? How many psychos would she encounter in her job? The only constant was the safety of Mulder. The rest was too much for her to bear; her body went into shock. Mulder could feel her stiffen against him; the trembling worsened. He picked her up and carried her gently to the sofa.

"Scully, I have to check you for injuries." She nodded. He tenderly opened her blouse. He couldn't explain what he saw: claw marks around her heart, as if someone was trying to rip it out, _Temple-of-Doom_ style. The wound was thankfully not deep, but her body had clearly gone through massive physical trauma, and she would need stitches.

"I think you are going to be okay, but you will need immediate medical attention," he said. "Can you tell me who was in here?" he asked, as he buttoned her back up.

"Man…hooded…knocked me down…" she chattered, trying to get the words beyond her clanking teeth. Her eyes began to close and the tears streamed down her face. Mulder grabbed his wool Navajo blanket and covered her. He walked over to the phone. Scully moved the blanket looked down at her chest. There was absolutely no trace of any physical attack. Nothing.

"Mulder?" she gasped in surprise.

Mulder turned his head around mid-dial and dropped the phone on the floor in amazement. Just moments before, she was soaked in red blood and in need of stitches. Now, her white shirt showed no traces of any physical attack, whatsoever. He walked quickly over to her to check up close. Both of them looked at each other in confusion. Scully finally stopped shaking and looked blankly at the wall.

"This really happened," he said, trying to convince themselves that neither were crazy.

"It certainly did," she replied, weakly. "Mulder, I need to lie down for a little while."

"Okay. You're welcome to sleep on my bed."

Scully nodded and walked into the bedroom, falling asleep almost immediately. Mulder decided to take the opportunity to make her something special for dinner. He didn't cook much these days – so seldom, that most people would have figured that he'd never learned how in the first place. He was still shaken up after the Padgett incident, and preparing food seemed like a good way to come down off of the adrenaline rush.

Two hours later, Scully stirred, smelling a delicious…something. The scent of garlic filled the air, for certain. She could hear the hissing of a pan in the kitchen, and Mulder softly singing to himself. Mulder? Cooking? She tiptoed to the door and peeked around the corner. What she saw simultaneously made her heart melt and her stomach growl.

There was Mulder, or at least someone who resembled him, engrossed in making some kind of outrageous-looking Italian dish. He skillfilly sautéd garlic and butter in a pan with pasta, with some kind of cream sauce simmering on the stove. Was he trying to kill them both? Oh my, it smelled heavenly. The CD player was on low in the kitchen, and he sung along with it, smiling as he tossed the food in the pan, occasionally singing into the slotted spoon like a microphone.

_Surprisingly good voice,_ she thought. Who knew Mulder could sing? The PARTRIDGE FAMILY? Jesus, she thought. She decided to finally make her presence known by clearing her throat in amusement. Mulder didn't seem surprised to see her standing there in the least, and kept right on unabashedly singing.

"Oh, Mulder." She laughed.

"_Point meeeee in the direction of Albuquerqueeeeee_!" He dipped the spoon in the saucepot and held it to her. She took a taste. "It's good to see you laughing. And alive, while you're at it."

"God, Mulder." She closed her eyes in rapture. The sauce was out-of-this-world good. Shivers ran through her body. What was in this sauce?

"One or the other, I'm certainly not both, my little Shulamite."

Scully laughed. "This is incredible. I didn't know you could cook."

"You never asked," he replied, truthfully. "I'm just full of surprises, Scully. Go check out the dining table."

She obeyed and peeked around the corner. He'd set the table with the only candle he had in the house: a half-melted bikini woman from a long-ago birthday cake the Lone Gunmen had made him, a bouquet of paper flowers he'd made from newspapers, and he'd gotten out the nice red Pier One placemats she'd gotten him for Christmas a couple of years ago.

"Mulder. What is this?"

"A celebratory dinner that you didn't die," he responded, grating some parmesan cheese, "and to shamelessly show off the skills I learned in high school art club. I joined it in hopes of meeting girls, but none of them were interested so I got stuck learning how to make paper flowers to decorate the gym for prom. Dad was convinced at that point that I was batting for the other team."

"I'm sorry," Scully giggled. "Did the Partridge Family play your prom?"

"Don't be silly. I graduated in nineteen seventy NINE, Scully."

"Dreams never die, Mulder. Need a hand carrying that to the dining room?"

"Are you feeling up to it?" The light mood turned to genuine concern, but Mulder's fears were quelled when Scully snuck a bite of pasta from the pan.

"I'm starving. The faster we eat, the faster I feel better. By the way, thanks for letting me nap. That seemed to really help."

"Sure." Mulder smiled and kissed the top of her head as he carried the basket of garlic bread to the dining room. After one of the worst afternoons of his life, it was shaping up to be a really nice evening.


	6. Tofutti Rice Dreamsicle

Dana Scully finally had a rare Saturday afternoon all to herself. No monsters to chase, no Mulder to watch over (he'd left her with the remains of her tofu ice cream earlier in the day), nothing going on because she no longer had a circle of friends. She had gone home at 11:00 AM after Mulder dashed off to investigate his baseball thing, and suddenly found herself feeling very lonely.

She thought she'd give her friend Ellen a call. She and Ellen didn't see much of each other anymore, but once in a while they would catch up on the phone or go shopping together.

_Hi, you've reached the Sandersons. Please leave a message after the beep._

Shit, thought Scully. Well, she tried. She hung up the phone and dialed her mom's number. Her mother was also out. Ehhhh. Okay. Time for something else to do.

"I'm not going to waste my afternoon doing nothing but paint my nails," thought Scully. "It's going to be a really nice day."

The afternoon ended up with her getting a rare hot dog from a cart, wandering around the Mall for a few hours, just people-watching, and then deciding to do some retail therapy. Scully had never been very fashion-conscious while she was overweight all through college and her first years working the field, but after Ellen had given her some tips on how to dress herself a little better, she was enjoying it more. _You don't have to wear dowdy oversized coats to hide your figure anymore,_ Ellen had joked. Scully still felt self-conscious. _Once a fat girl, always a fat girl_, she often thought.

She walked past a shop and admired a stunning suede coat in the window. She looked at the price tag in dismay. $650. _Yeah, forget it._ _I'll just get a knockoff at the GAP._

Just then the phone in her pocket rang. She knew who it was. And she was going to ignore it. For now, anyway. _Not today, Mulder. Leave me alone._

The phone kept ringing persistently, and finally went to voicemail. She kept walking down the sidewalk, determined to not pay any more heed to it, and then her mind started to wander down that familiar path. _What if he's in trouble? What if there's something new to investigate? What if he's hurt again?_

She walked over to a park bench and dialed her voicemail service. She laughed when she heard what sounded like Mulder's "Humphrey Bogart impression" voice.

"Miss Scully, this is Fox Mantle. Please show up at 8:30 PM sharp at Lou Gehrig Memorial Little League Field for a very early or very late birthday present. Wear something casual and sporting for this event."

_What the hell, Mulder?_ She thought, amused but slightly annoyed. _ A baseball field? This had better not be another one of your UFO or ghost hunting schemes._

She called him back, but got his answering machine service. Best not to leave a message on this one. She thought it over a minute. Ugh. She hated baseball. HATED it.

Sour memories of high school gym classes hit her like a wave while she sat there, staring out into space. The time Kenny Baylor broke her glasses with a bad curveball. The teacher screaming at her when she failed to catch any balls out in the field.

_Why aren't you as good as your brother? Maybe if you lost some of that baby weight you'd be more athletic. _The teacher would yell at her, just to really hammer in the humiliation. Of course. Bill was the star Varsity player and singlehandedly got the team to States his senior year. Dana could barely run a mile under twelve minutes. Fuck Bill and his stupid baseball.

_I don't know, _she had retorted to the teacher, _Why isn't Bill as good as I am on the clarinet? _That went over like a lead balloon. The class laughed at her, instead. _NERD NERD NERD, _they chanted. The jocks would do stuff like kick dirt on her while she was at bat. And then there was the day she got her first period in the middle of 7th grade gym class during the baseball unit.

Dana Scully scowled at the awful memories. Of course Mulder had no idea about any of this. She never told him. Mulder didn't know anything about her nerd girl past. It sounded like he actually did have a nice surprise for her. After all, he did mention a little present. That must have meant he felt bad about taking her ice cream. _Damn right he should feel guilty_, she smiled.

She drove home to find something casual, yet sporting. What the hell was that? Ridiculous. She picked out a nice pair of pants and a little jacket for the chilly night, grabbed her keys, and went out the door to some random baseball field.


	7. Night Game

Well, the night had proven interesting, that's for sure. Mulder felt bad about Scully's ice cream earlier in the day, and decided the best way to call a truce would be to do something completely out of character and fun. They'd both been having a rough spring. For Mulder, "fun" was heading to the batting cages or a basketball hoop to work out some stress.

Mrs. Scully had told Mulder multiple times what a tomboy Dana had been when she was a kid, so he naturally assumed she'd have fun playing baseball. He was completely unprepared when she showed up, pretending to be annoyed.

He really had no idea that Scully hated baseball with a passion, but was secretly thrilled at the unexpected opportunity to "show her how." He couldn't tell if she was faking it, or if she actually wanted to be taught, but either way…she ended up in his arms. Mulder took full advantage of this rare position. She wasn't sick, or dying, or in need of physical assistance…she was simply his friend Dana, and he was embracing her, their hands clutching around an ash bat. At first her mannerisms seemed a little awkward, too businesslike, about their close proximity; her body language told a different story. She liked it. She was glad to be there. Mulder felt encouraged for the first time in their strange relationship. This was not their typical banter over the desk or in the car. This wasn't their usual playfulness. It was something else entirely.

Desire hit him hard as he became overwhelmed by the scent of her light perfume and shampoo. His heart began to beat faster as he leaned around her and whispered silly things into her ear. Even better, she didn't seem to mind in the least. He could almost sense a slight encouragement, although he was afraid to do much about it with a ten year old kid a few yards away. _Why was he dressed like Spanky, again?_

"Shut up, Mulder, I'm playing baseball," she said, giggling thwacking another left fielder into the night. Her tiny hands clenched the bat as the pair gleefully swung in tandem.

After ten minutes of this, the PA system switched on.

"**Alright, Mulder, the park is closed at 9:00 PM tonight, unless you want to fork over another hundred bucks. By the way, she IS cute."**

Mulder blushed and explained to Scully that he shot hoops with the ballpark owner every other Saturday, and that the kid was his son. Scully laughed and waved up at the announcer's booth, and lightly punched Mulder in the arm before tearing off around the bases.

Mulder finished the last hit and mock-chased Scully to home plate, grabbed her and tickled her from behind, and that was that. Breathlessly laughing, Mulder paid the kid, plus a little extra for ice cream, and the two agents giggled their way off the field into the adjoining playground. Mulder's face lit up.

"This is the best non-birthday I've ever had, Mulder," Scully said honestly. "I'm sorry I was born in the middle of winter. I always wished I'd had a birthday in the summertime. I can't believe you did this for me."

"See? Baseball isn't so bad," he responded. "Although, most players don't play it like that. At least not normally." Scully laughed a little self-consciously, and hopped on the swingset.

"I can't believe I'm swinging on a playground in the dark. It's been a long time, and the last time I did it, I did a joint with my brother Charlie."

Mulder chuckled and hopped on his own swing, playfully kicking the underlying mulch into the air. "So why DID you hate baseball for years and years until tonight?"

"Oh, it's a sad story," Scully replied. "Tell me instead why you like it so much." Mulder grinned. "…And I promise I won't be an asshole this time," she finished.

"It's always been my fun escape," he said, swinging farther up into the night sky. "Even when my parents were falling apart and everything with Sam, baseball made sense. I collected cards and studied stats like no one's business. No way would I have made the varsity team then, though. This fine specimen of maleness sitting next to you is only a more recent incarnation of Fox Mulder." His feet kept hitting the ground, to Scully's amusement.

"No way, Mulder. Surely the girls fawned all over you in art club during the paper flower-making months." Scully tried to picture Mulder as a teenager. In her mind, he looked exactly the same, but maybe with a little longer hair and a leather jacket. _The cool kid all the girls liked and the boys envied. _Mulder burst her brief fantasy with a full-on laugh.

"Oh, wow. I've never shown you my high school yearbook, have I?" His sneakers knocked the mulch again as his swing descended. "You have no idea what level of dweeb I was. And I hadn't even discovered Dungeons and Dragons yet. Or Clearasil, for that matter."

"I just always assumed you were suave. You have women chasing after you at work."

"If you're referring to Kimberly in Skinner's office, she's been after every agent she could get her hands on for years. I went on one date with her years ago. One. That was plenty." Scully rolled her eyes.

_Was that jealousy he detected in her face? Definitely. He felt encouraged with this minor revelation. Scully apparently had thought all these years that he was a secret raging lothario. Really? All those porn tapes didn't give her a clue that he wasn't getting much these days? Pffft. Every date he'd attempted before Scully came along would run screaming after fifteen minutes of details about the supernatural. _

"I prefer dates like this," he ventured. "Low key. Fun."

Scully stopped swinging and let herself descend. "So…is this a date, Mulder?" she challenged, humorously. The street lamps surrounding the park finally switched on, and they could see each other.

"Sure, what else would you call this? I call you out in the middle of the evening to play baseball. Just catching up after work?"

"Definitely the nicest date I've ever been on, to tell you the truth."

"Speaking of truth, it's time for you to explain your baseball hatred. I gotta get off this thing." He got off the swing. "Come on, let's go sit under that tree and get our stomachs back."

Scully, to his astonishment, jumped off the swing midair and landed on her knees.

"Ow! Jesus. That was dumb. I remember grass being softer as a kid," she laughed, wiping off the grass stains from the palms of her hands. Mulder laughed and held out his hand to help her up.

"You okay?"

"Believe me, Mulder, I've been through way worse."


	8. Backstory

They plopped under the maple tree, listening to the leaves rustle in the warm-cool nighttime breeze, and the lights went dim as the baseball diamond shut down for the evening. Scully hugged her knees to herself, still smarting from her daredevil leap.

"So. Baseball," Mulder persisted, poking her in the shoulder.

"Alright, but you have to promise not to laugh. The previous incarnation of Dana Scully was something straight out of a Judy Blume book."

"You? Sophisticated G-Woman? Leaper into the night?" Mulder twirled a stray fallen leaf in his fingers, absently, trying to focus on its intricate veining.

Scully shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, well, I know I told you I was a little overweight as a kid, but let's just say I was more than just pudgy. I weighed about 200 pounds."

Mulder's mouth dropped. "Oh, Dana. That must have been tough."

"Wellll….I've always been a stress eater," she continued slowly, "and I could never please my father. If I got an A- in school my dad would ask why I didn't do better. My parents were having marriage troubles around then, too. I felt lonely moving around the country, so to feel better I'd eat….a lot."

Mulder nodded sympathetically. He knew all about Scully's stress eating and how she still struggled with it when they first worked together. She had confided some of her frustrations with him in the car before, on one of their long road trips on a case.

"So this is where it gets mortifying," she continued, picking at some grass. "I got sent to fat camp when I was 15, and lived on celery and water for three months. Mom leaves out those details in her stories. If you notice at her house, there's photos of all of the Scully kids' pictures around that age, except me. She only has a photo from when I was thinner, before puberty. Before the braces." Mulder's heart sank for that long-ago vulnerable girl.

He certainly understood Scully's weird relationship with food. Her mother was notorious for shoving it in everyone's faces at gatherings, and to most people that was an endearing quality – but Mulder realized that this habit had definitely not left Dana unscarred.

She continued, feeling encouraged by the sheer volume of personal details she usually kept concealed. "When I came home from that experience, forty pounds thinner, I was so angry at my parents that I started really rebelling…hence the purple hair and nose ring." The family had settled down in Maryland after Ahab retired from active duty and she finished out high school there.

"And now…this is why I hate baseball." She finished off her story with the horrors of her high school gym classes. Mulder marveled at her strength to finally unearth some of these deep-rooted fears and humiliations.

"…and Marcus, that '12th grade love of my life'…well, he majored in Musical Theatre. So you can see where that thwarted romance went. The only boy who ever asked me out in high school. Turned out he was using me to get to know my brother Charlie better."

"I completely understand," he said, taking her hand. "I guess now's a weird time to say that I've always found you stunningly beautiful, but yeah - those old inner struggles are so hard to shake off, Scully."

Scully stared out at the stars, trying not to cry. _Determined_ not to cry. He could feel her begin to tremble slightly, but he couldn't tell if she was cold or not. She only heard one word in his sentence.

"You think I'm beautiful?" she asked, in a small voice.

"Inside and out, Dana Scully." he replied honestly, giving her a side hug. "Come on, Sport. It's getting a little chilly out here."

"Where's your car?" he asked.

"I took a cab. My car's still in the shop," she replied. "I guess I didn't know what to expect here."

"I'll take you home. The night is still young, though."

Scully smiled and although she hid it well, Mulder noticed she wiped the corner of her eye.

"Mulder, why don't you come over and hang out tomorrow night? It's the least I can do for such a fun evening. Let's just make a full evening of it. Get a case of beer, watch some crappy old movies or something."

"Sure. I've got a case in the fridge. How does Thai food sound for dinner?"

Scully smiled. "Perfect."


	9. Backstory II

The next evening, Mulder showed up around 7:30 with the promised case of beer and movie rentals, and plopped on Scully's couch. He had a book under his arm, as well, and stuck it on the coffee table. Scully decided to forego their usual takeout routine and made some lovely Thai chicken green curry from scratch. Mulder was enthralled.

Dinner was a fun event, with them doing goofy impressions of Skinner and Kersh. Mulder did the dishes for Scully. In the meantime, she flopped down on the sofa and saw Mulder's book. The cover had an embossed tiger and said "REGIONAL HIGH 1979."

"What's this, Mulder?" she asked slyly, picking up the book and leafing through it.

"Oh, nothing…just my secret shame," Mulder responded with a weak smile, intently scrubbing a saucepan. "Paaaage…seventy something."

Scully looked over at him sidelong and turned the page. She gasped when she saw what he meant.

"Oh my goodness, Mulder."

The black and white photo in question was a doozy. Feathered, long dark hair framed a chubby face so full of acne, it looked painful. A mouth full of metal. Big, square, thick plastic glasses. A tie so wide it looked like a napkin from a BBQ joint. A wide-lapelled leisure suit jacket. This young man in the photo looked nothing like the smart-alec handsome jock that she'd pictured in her mind for Mulder's teen years. The caption below his photo was cruel, in that petty high school way.

**Fox William Mulder**

"**Pizzaface"; "Virg"**

**Known for: chess, tripping over desks; still listening to glam rock, failing gym class, making the rest of us look dumb**

**Voted Least Likely To Get A Date**

**Ambitions: to finally get a date**

"I told you," Mulder smiled. "These were the Trial Years."

"What's Virg stand for?"

"Take a wild guess, Scully." Recognition flashed over her face. "Ohhh." She still couldn't believe the transformation Fox Mulder had made since his teen years. The only things that made the boy in the picture recognizable as the man currently rinsing off her skillet in her kitchen were the nose and eyes.

"That jacket was my mother's idea of high fashion. She was always pestering me to look modern. Even then that look was a few years out of date."

"Yikes. I think my cousin Todd had a jacket just like that. The seventies were a rough time in fashion, Mulder."

"It wasn't until I fled for England that I realized I could reinvent myself. I found as an American I was actually a little exotic, and girls actually noticed me because of my accent. Can you believe that? The acne cleared up once I got away from my parents. I got a haircut and started dressing like Rick in the Young Ones so I could fit in with the English kids better. That's right. I turned into a New Waver." Scully laughed at the thought of earnest young Mulder tromping around Oxford.

"How did you meet Phoebe?" she finally asked.

"Christ almighty. Phoebe. Well, she was in my comp lit class, and chased after me for a month before I gave in. Just HAD TO HAVE a Yankee, she told all her friends. I guess you heard her yammering on about the Conan Doyle grave 'adventure?' That was bullshit. He wasn't even buried there. We made out in a cemetery, once. She was always a drama queen. But…she was my first girlfriend. I dated her a while, but then I found out that apparently so did everyone else. She must have fucked half the class. But I have to say, despite that, it was nice not being Virg anymore. I guess."

Scully smiled, despite herself. Luckily Mulder was still drying the dishes and didn't see her blushing. She'd been so jealous and worried Phoebe Green would scoop Mulder up and take him back to England with her, but Mulder had made it clear even then that he wasn't interested in her.

"So after that experience, I was pretty bitter, so I threw myself into work and finished top of my class." He walked over to the sofa and plopped next to her. She could feel his arm through his shirt. "I took up sports around then. Too bad no one plays cricket here, I was a whiz." He grinned. "So I was pretty stylin' by the mid-80s."

Scully laughed sympathetically. She really had no idea how crappy Mulder had it in his earlier years.

Mulder went on to explain his relationship with Diana. They weren't together very long – it started off as a crazy one-night stand when they started working together, and then went downhill from there. She was skillfully manipulative and exploited Mulder's tender emotions at every chance she could. She controlled his every move, cajoling him into doing whatever she wanted.

She was also highly jealous and suspicious of any woman he talked to, even the elderly human resources matron with the tinted hair. When she was off work, she'd have people constantly call or come down to the office to spy on him, to make sure he wasn't cheating on her. The Lone Gunmen hated her, and sarcastically called her "his little chickadee." Mulder was thoroughly whipped. The final straw happened when he went over to visit one evening and, ironically, caught her in bed with an old bald guy. After that, she flatly told him she no longer loved him, and took an assignment in Europe to be with '…Franz?'

"All in all, we only lasted just under a year. Longest ten years of my life," he joked. "And to be honest, I got so sick of hearing her whine 'Foooox' all the time that I started requesting that people just call me 'Mulder.' I admit, it was a white lie I told you years ago; I never told my parents to call me 'Mulder.' Dad would have punched me."

_What a shitshow_, she thought. _To take a nice guy like that and just be a fucking maniac._ No wonder Mulder never talked about her; acted like a pussy when she was around. Diana was a master of alpha female bullshit. Scully silently remembered a good friend in med school, Greg, who had a similar incident happen with a girl he knew. Greg committed suicide before graduation. Scully wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye, remembering how miserable Greg had become by then. By the end of the conversation, Scully wanted to wring Diana's chicken neck.

"Come on, Scully, that story wasn't THAT tragic."

"As a matter of fact, I was thinking of something else related to your story," she sniffled.

"I always said it would be the end of the world before I let myself get into a quagmire like that again."

Scully's face fell, just a little – enough for Mulder to notice. They'd had quite a weekend together, emotionally, and if they didn't watch it, there could be another quagmire. He decided to break the brief tension with something silly.

"Well, now that we know a little more about each other, what say we watch something funny? I brought "Beastmaster," "Clash of the Titans," and "Dune."

"Dune. I've seen the other two enough times I could recite them," she grinned.

"Me too," he laughed.

They cracked open a sixpack. Scully konked out on the sofa halfway through the movie, a little Mona Lisa smile on her lips. _God, those lips_, he thought, wishing he could plant his own on them. _I'm such a goober. Face it, Fox, you're in love with this woman._ Mulder covered her with the afghan, kissed her gently, and went home. He felt much lighter in his step for the first time in years.


	10. Millennium Dare

"Ow," said Mulder to the triage nurse, whose name tag read "Da'Shawna."

"You just be glad that I didn't need to give you more stitches. This boy's skin's gonna look like a patchwork quilt - right, Shaniqua?"

"Mmmhmmmm," replied Shaniqua, as she looked over Mulder from the other side of the room and lasciviously winked. He winked back playfully. Shaniqua's scrubs always had pictures of cat heads all over it, smiling dementedly. Mulder had once made the mistake the first time he'd been wheeled in there, of asking if she was a cat person. She told him she "wasn't into pussy" and the two women laughed their asses off at his expense. From then on, Da'Shawna and Shaniqua were his favorite nurses.

Mulder smiled bashfully as she prepped the undercoat of cast plaster. The ladies laughed their asses off, making fun of Mulder. They were always getting Mulder's goat and teasing him about women troubles.

"We're beginning to think you're coming in here on purpose just to see us, FBI Man." continued Da'Shawna mercilessly, her heavy perfume clouding the air. "Every other week it's either you or our girl Dana you're always mopin' over."

"I do not," Mulder blurted out, "…mope over her. We're just friends." The nurses looked at each other knowingly and winked. "I've never even really kissed her."

"Mmmhmmmm…." they teased. "Bullshit." Shaniqua shook her head. "She has it bad for you, FBI Man. We see you g-men all the time and no one's like you two. We just assumed you were knockin' boots, the way you two act. She's always hovering around you like a damn helicopter. You're in a coma or whatever, she's there all damn hours of the night. We let her stay because she bribes us with candy now. Soon as she started pulling that shit we decided we liked her."

"You're kidding." Mulder had no idea, but it better explained why Scully was always allowed to stay way past visiting hours.

"We didn't let that brown haired bitch in because she didn't give us Skittles like we asked."

Mulder had to smile at that. The idea of Diana being asked to provide them with Skittles as bribery was absurd. Diana never even ate. RIP, Diana, he thought to himself. He replied with a fake curtness, "I won't rat on you. You ladies do know you're breaking the law, right?"

"Well then, maybe you two should get married so she can save money on Reese's cups for a damn veil. We're very demanding," suggested Da'Shawna.

Mulder shook his head and chuckled weakly.

"Come on," he laughed, as Shaniqua gingerly took his arm to wrap in the cast, shaking her head. She wheeled over the table.

"What color you want this time, FBI Man? You stuck with it for four weeks." She pointed to a rainbow of cast materials, set out like a dessert cart. Mulder selected green this time around.

"Oooh green, the color of luck." Shaniqua wrapped the colored plaster around Mulder's arm. "Honey, you and Dana NEED to get lucky."

Da'Shawna did some paperwork in the meantime."What the hell scrape you morons get into? That ol' man with the nastyass gash in his eyebrow? He out with you? No wonder he got slashed up."

Mulder laughed and then winced as Shaniqua set his arm. "Zombies," he replied. The women, of course, thought he was joking, and slapped their knees in hysterical laughter.

After a few minutes Mulder's arm was nicely set and put into a pale blue sling.

"Stylin' as always, ladies." He grinned as he waited for his paperwork to be completed.

"So what're your plans with Dana tonight?" teased Da'Shawna. She looked out the door toward the lobby. "She's still waiting for you out there. We saw her when we wheeled your stuff in."

"I just want to go home."

"You lie like a rug, FBI Man. Come on. It's New Year's Eve. I think you should kiss her."

Shaniqua nodded. "Yeah. It's about damn time. What, you a pussy or something? Okay, you're set. Soon you'll have enough doctor bills to wallpaper a room. Don't forget. Just plant one on her." He got handed his paperwork.

"Like this?" Mulder gave each nurse a peck on the cheek.

"Weak, FBI Man," replied Da'Shawna, laughing. "Real weak. You know what we mean. Alright, it's almost midnight, the drunk tank's about to fall in. So go get our girl Dana and sex her up real good. These pain meds should give you some courage. Better than anything at a liquor store. Mmmmmph. Anyway, you know the drill. Two of those puppies a day should knock you out for the next week. Enjoy."

"Thank you, ladies. Until next time."

"Happy new year, FBI Man." They waved and moved down the hall to patch up the next poor sap who ended up in triage on New Year's. Mulder paid the front desk and walked out the door to find Scully with Frank Black and his daughter. Frank was just leaving.

"Frank, good luck with everything." He shook with his good hand.

"Agent Mulder, Agent Scully. I guess this is it." Dick Clark's voice commanded the room as the TV blared.

"You're not gonna stay and watch?" asked Scully, crossing her arms and looking at the TV, trying to avoid contact with Mulder's eyes. She could only imagine what Da'Shawna and Shaniqua had been saying to Mulder this time – probably something mortifying, like usual. She'd have to remember to pick up some more candy at Walgreens. Maybe Skittles.

"Nah, just wanna go home," replied Frank, hugging his daughter's shoulder. It had been a rough night, and Frank wasn't getting any younger. "Take care of yourselves." They left quietly. Dick Clark started to announce the countdown as the agents walked around the TV to watch the ball drop. This was it - the big 2000. Y2K.

Scully kept her arms crossed, self conscious that the triage nurses had probably said something to Mulder about her, and hoping they didn't embarrass her too much this time.

The countdown ended. New millennium. "Auld Lang Syne" filled the sad, quiet hospital lobby.

Suddenly she looked up, finally facing his intense gaze, and his lips were at last upon hers. Gentle, soft. A whisper of tongue, just enough to quicken her heartbeat to a steady pounding. They kissed for what seemed like an eternity. Scully's head pulled back as she smiled at him in a daze. Mulder smiled back.

"The world didn't end," he said, quietly.

"No, it didn't." She turned her head downward slightly, and Mulder took it as a sign that he had gone too far. His face fell_. Da'Shawna and Shaniqua were so full of shit._

"Happy new year, Scully," he mumbled.

"Happy new year, Mulder."

He put his arm around her and guided her out the hospital door. They both felt very awkward. It had been an emotional week – year, even. The worst they'd ever endured – the experiments on Mulder, Scully going to Africa, Diana Fowley getting murdered, that weird kid in California who ate people - and it all ended on a sweet, loving kiss. Scully drove Mulder home; the pain meds were probably kicking in already. She helped him get inside. It wasn't really necessary, but she felt like she ought to see him safely in bed.

Scully broke the tension with a benign thought: "Wow, uh…it's really snowing. Looks like it's going to accumulate."

"Yep. Officially January." They rode in the elevator and walked down the hall in silence, neither wanting to talk about what happened in the hospital lobby, but both wondering if it meant anything to the other.

"Mulder..." she said cautiously, bracing for him to explain it was only New Year's and didn't count. She had yet to face him, her heart pounding in fear.

"Scully…I…I'm not imagining anything, am I?" he spluttered out. He started turning red as words spilled out his heart in a stream of consciousness. Scully felt her knees going weaker with every word.

"I've spent an awfully long time wondering…if you feel the same about me," he continued. "I know I'm always flirting with you, but I actually mean it, sometimes." Tears dropped from Scully's eyes. _Oh god, what is this? Crying? _she thought, vexed at herself for the display of emotion. She couldn't face him just yet.

"So I just resort to acting like a goofball to deflect how I feel inside. I guess I'm just afraid I'll ruin things if I tell you how much I..." He gently touched her back. "…I'm so afraid of losing you by doing something stupid."

Scully turned around, failing in her attempt not to cry; her face wet and shining, her shoulders shaking.

"Oh, Mulder...don't be afraid anymore." She stroked his cheeks gently with her thumbs. "Amor fati."

Neither remembered what happened or who technically initiated it, but what both did remember was a few minutes later, when his lips reluctantly freed themselves from hers, their breaths catching as if they'd been running.

"And we didn't even have any iced tea today," she joked, as they tumbled onto the sofa together.

They kissed madly until their jaws hurt, finally reveling in each other. Mulder always found Scully's light perfume intoxicating; she always liked that he used Old Spice – something rather old-fashioned and charming about him. And now they were entangled in earnest, tongues clashing, sweet moans encouraging each other to keep going. Six years they'd waited for this moment.

After some time, they decided to give their mouths a rest and Mulder got a couple of root beers. They were finally free. This transition from close friendship to love didn't seem weird, now that they'd leapt together into the happy abyss. In fact, it felt strangely normal.

"I'm so crazy about you, Scully." He smiled warmly as they clinked their drinks. "Since the day you wandered in my office to spy on me, I've been crazy about you."

"I broke up with a boyfriend to work with you," she admitted, laughing. Mulder was floored. He never knew this detail.

"You're kidding," he said.

"Oh yeah, he went on about his news show trying to interview you – something about some congressman and a UFO project? He thought you were a joke. Joke was on him. I liked you better. Plus, who can seriously date a guy who wears denim shirts?"

"Minette? You dated Ethan Minette?" Mulder nearly did a spit take. Oh how he couldn't stand that yuppie. He remembered that encounter well. How Minette had made fun of Mulder's favorite tie with the Gort pattern.

"Briefly," she stressed. "After his constant whining about how weird 'Spooky Mulder' was, and how I was putting my job before his dumb vacations at his creepy timeshare in Florida, I got fed up and dumped him soon after."

Mulder took a swig of his root beer and smiled. "Here's the serious question, Scully…how slow or fast do you want to take this?"

"Mulder, I'd hop into bed with you right now if you asked. But after all you and I have been through, and the bad mistakes we've made in the past with work relationships, why don't we just take this slowly? See where this goes first? I'm just so happy that I can kiss you, after lusting after your lips for nearly a decade." She brushed them with her thumb, sending shivers through his body.

"Always the sensible one, Dana Scully."

"Besides, we've already met each other's family. Not many other relationship hurdles left to leap, is there?" she joked. "I'm sorry I'm not the sweet Jackie O type your mother is probably holding out in hopes for you."

"My mother never knew what I really liked, anyway." He softly kissed her, leaned back and smiled, stroking her hair. "And when that time comes, I'll even throw caution to the wind and let you call me Fox."


	11. Outing To The Past

"These assignments are bullshit, Mulder," grumbled Scully, fishing around in her purse for a roll of Life Savers as their rental car barreled down the highway. She could tell Mulder was good and ready to leave this town with the speedy murdering kids. He was gunning it today, and Mulder rarely sped in normal driving. At least this last case was only an hour away in suburban Virginia, and didn't require air travel. The late January weather was chilly and dry, and there wasn't any snow on the ground.

She continued her rant. "Someday I'll write a tell-all book, and it's going to be a bestseller, mind you - called _Weird Shit Mulder Finds In Caves,_ and the cover's going to have a picture of you and Bat Boy floating in the air, and it's going to be about slime, mold, goop, vortices of power, and sunflower seeds." She popped a Life Saver in her mouth and reached for the car stereo. Mulder roared with laughter. Scully was sure on a roll, today.

"You have any green ones left?" he finally asked, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. He was still picturing the insanity of Scully's imaginary book cover.

"I think so. Yeah." She handed it to him. "Last one. What would I do without you, Mulder?"

"You'd throw the green ones out," he responded truthfully, with a wry smile. "Because you hate them and they're my favorite. I obviously complete you, Dana Scully."

"Yin and yang," she responded. "Well, Yang, we're off-duty as of two hours ago. I, for one, can't wait to get back home and finish writing my cave memoir."

Mulder looked slightly crestfallen. "I see my Captain Exciting stint is losing its magic."

"Just kidding," she laughed. "I haven't forgotten." The two had made plans to check out a silent movie festival that night at the film preservation institute, and had even decided to go whole hog and dress up in 20s garb for the occasion. Scully and Mulder, both old film buffs, planned on attending an accompanying formal dance happening that evening. To be fair, Mulder seemed more interested in Louise Brooks than anything else – something Scully teased him about to no end.

"Only you would have a crush on a dead lady," she chided.

"Scully. You're very much alive, last I looked," he shot back. "By the way, I prefer redheads to brunettes."

"Could've fooled me," she smiled.

At this point, their relationship was still fledgling, despite their long closeness as friends. They'd made the decision to take things slowly and cautiously and made a pact not to sleep with each other until they'd dated two months. Mulder's firm suggestion, even.

First off, both had been seriously burned in work relationships before. They knew Walter Skinner wouldn't care if they were dating (it was well-known that the FBI pool had made bets on them years ago), but if it got out in general, it could present a problem for them involving the X-Files. So, for now, it was an old-fashioned romance. And it was very difficult.

Mulder dropped her off at her apartment so he could go home and change. Scully took a bubble bath and scented her skin with an expensive perfume she rarely ever wore because it was so difficult to find. Her dad had gotten it for her when she graduated med school. She loved how rich and velvety it smelled, and hoped Mulder would enjoy it, too.

She pulled her dress and shoes out of the closet. It was exquisite, and a total steal at the vintage boutique she'd found it in: a royal blue velvet draped cocktail-length gown, trimmed in blue seed beads, accented with a sheer, emerald green chiffon scarf. The shoes were green short-heeled mary janes, accented with a pretty rhinestone buckle. The dress set off her red hair gloriously, the retail lady said. The finishing touch was an antique garnet necklace that had belonged to Scully's maternal grandmother. It nestled against her collarbone, the deep red of blood. She decided not to do a whole lot with her hair, since she'd recently gotten it cut, but she did get a cute little black velvet band to wrap around her head. It gave the desired effect.

She put on the ensemble and admired herself in the mirror. _Yes, that will do very nicely, Dana Scully_, she thought. _Just the right makeup. Mulder's gonna shit himself when he sees my eyes all gothed out._

Mulder did not, thankfully, make this prediction come true, but when he came to fetch Scully he nearly fell over with her radiant beauty. She looked exactly like a John Singer Sergeant painting subject – one that was suddenly cursing like a sailor and holding her elbow.

"OW! Motherfucker, I whacked my funny bone on the door jamb," she yowled.

"Special Agent Motherfucker, at your service," laughed Mulder, holding out his arm politely. She took it gingerly and curtseyed. "Scully, you look…wow."

"Never seen me dolled up before, have you?" she smirked, self-deprecatingly.

As a matter of fact, he had – on that ghost ship - but she didn't know that.

"You look wonderful in a tux. Always have," she winked. But whatever romance was left in that moment of discovery, it was dwindling fast. Time was a-wasting, and they didn't want to miss the first film of three that night: "Pandora's Box." They decided to take a cab this time. Scully went into the hall closet and found the old mink coat that her grandmother had left her. She rarely wore it because it reminded her of when Melissa and she would play dress-up in it long ago, but it was the only coat she had that worked with her outfit. She looked marvelous.

The film festival ended with "City Lights," one of Scully's favorite movies. They walked out of the theatre, hand in hand, and headed toward the hotel where the ball was being held. The movie had been shown with a live orchestra, which made the experience even more thrilling than a boring old jumpy VHS tape in Mulder's apartment. The two agents were having a ball people-watching. These film festivals always drew an eclectic crowd: the gothy cosplayers, the old couples, the academics, the film historians, the übergeeks, the artsy film student snobs. Mulder and Scully felt a little out of place with all of these types milling about, but they certainly made a handsome couple, and they were having a blast. Everyone there was in costume and looked fantastic.

The orchestra from the theatre came over and started warming up. The music of the evening was old favorites from that time period, as well as music scores from the movies. Both agents were lousy dancers and self-conscious, so they refrained from attempting Charlestons, and focused most of their attention on the open bar and crudité platters.

"I can't believe we didn't think to go to dinner first," she mumbled, helping herself to her third mini sandwich. She'd already drained her second martini.

"Scully, do you believe in reincarnation?" asked Mulder, his mouth full of cherry tomatoes.

"We've gone over this so many times," she responded automatically, watching the couples waltz with a dreamy smile. "My answer is inconclusive. Why not just focus on this life we're in, right now? Perhaps that's the point?"

"My point is," continued Mulder, reaching for a piece of Muenster behind her, "that I feel weirdly at home at goofy things like this. With you."

"Oh, you just read The Great Gatsby one too many times." Mulder nodded his head in agreement and chuckled. "Besides, Mulder, you know you look divine. And look at us. We're really bad sports. We're dressed to dance. Or attempt to, anyway – and we haven't done it once tonight."

"Let's boogie, toots!" he responded, getting up. The last song of the night was Charles Chaplin's "Smile." He held out his hand and she gleefully took it as they began to waltz.

It was a disaster. Neither of them knew what the hell they were doing. Mulder tripped on Scully's toes; she bumped into someone behind her. They were awful on the dance floor, but they laughed and soldiered on with the song. Both had a couple of drinks in them at this point. By the end, they were standing still and swaying, clinging to each other.

An old lady tottered up to them afterward and complimented Scully on her lovely dress.

"…But don't quit your day jobs when it comes to dancing," she finished. "You're lousy."

"We won't," laughed Mulder. He took Scully's hand and the pair went out to the pavilion. Most people were starting to go home. They went around the corner into the garden area and kissed madly.

"This was a lot of fun, Scully," he said truthfully. "I'll admit that at first I wasn't 100% into putting on the penguin suit, but this was worth it. And my god, you're stunning tonight. Have I already said that?"

"At least twelve times. If you don't stop, I'm going to get vain. I'm already getting cold."

"In that animal?" He stroked the fur coat. "You're wearing someone's pet."

"It's not exactly January weather for this dress," she replied truthfully, shivering.

"Luckily, we're being assigned to Iowa in two days on another bullshit assignment."

"You're kidding."

"Strange stuff, Scully. A possible…corn goblin. I'm beginning to wonder what's going on."

Scully laughed. "No work talk tonight, you promised."

Mulder laughed. "Sorry. I tried. You have to admit, I was good tonight."

They sat down under the eave to wait for a cab. Scully took Mulder's hand. "I think you look very James Bond in that penguin suit," she said, smiling with a twinkle in her eyes. "Despite your workaholism, I'm finding it hard to resist you." She kissed him tenderly.

"I'll have a lot of fun in the next few seconds thinking of a naughty name for you."

"Ooh, la la. Here's our cab."

"Scully?" he said, as they settled in the car.

"Yeah?"

"This is one of the nicest evenings I can remember in a long time. I'm really happy for the first time in my life."

Scully took his hand in her lap and told the driver her address, then shut the divider. "I am too, Mulder."

"I love you so much." He stroked her cheek and looked in her eyes before planting a soft, heart pounding kiss on her lips. They kissed passionately in the back seat. Catching her breath a minute or two later, she looked at him, somewhat dazed.

"I love you, Mulder. I'd follow you to the ends of the earth. Except Los Angeles."

"C'mon, Scully!"


	12. Pfaster, Pussycat

The trip would have to be postponed. Donnie Pfaster resurfaced and Dana Scully nearly died by his hand. Again.

After a harrowing early morning dealing with the fallout, Scully kept herself wrapped tightly in her robe, absently staring at the huge mess in her sanctum sanctorum. Mulder, bless his heart, had helped the police sweep up the shards on the floor.

Mulder stayed with her after the police had gone and the cleaners arrived, then drove her to the medical center for her injuries to be checked over and dressed. They prescribed her a mild sedative to take at bedtime, to help her sleep through the night.

Skinner had authorized a cleaning service to come in for her. Her treasured cedar dresser with the big mirror, the very first piece of "grown-up" furniture she'd purchased as an adult, would have to be scrapped. Her bookshelf was dented from the attack, but not destroyed. The carpet would have to be torn up and replaced. He shuddered to think what could have happened.

Mulder had emailed the case report to Skinner earlier that evening. Skinner called him soon afterward and said, "Everything checks out, as far as I am concerned. He got what he deserved. Just take her out of there for a couple of days until she recovers, okay?" Skinner eyed him, knowingly. He handed Mulder a credit card and directed him to take her wherever he felt necessary under an assumed name. He determined she would probably prefer a completely neutral environment to snap out of her shellshock. Mulder agreed.

They drove a little bit out of town and stopped at a nearby diner to get a long-awaited bite to eat. She sat next to him in the booth instead of across from him, like usual. It wasn't like her to be so clingy, but Mulder put his arm around her and rubbed her back in slow circles. Scully sat mostly in silence, but she managed to down a little bit of soup and a cup of hot tea. Every so often she'd snap back to reality and nod at the nonsense Mulder spouted, but she still kept replaying the horrors of the morning in her head. And that song.

Mulder, reaching over for the pepper to put on his mashed potatoes and meatloaf, observed the tears that kept welling up in her eyes, that she fought hard not to let flow. _Poor Dana. This girl deserves a quiet night in a safe bed._

They arrived at a Ramada Inn and checked into room #42. _Funny, that number keeps popping up,_ thought Mulder.

"Have a good night, Mr. and Mrs. Hale." Mulder smiled wanly and nodded at the receptionist. Scully sat on the bold print sofa, absently leafing through a tourism guide to Assateague Island.

"Come on, honeybunch," he smiled. She got up and he guided her to the elevator.

"Thanks," she grumbled, as he took her suitcase. They set their stuff in the room, and Scully promptly flopped on the bed and turned on the old movie channel, while Mulder set up his case file work on the desk.

Mulder was relieved that Pfaster would never again target anyone, particularly the traumatized redhead sitting against the headboard, watching the old movie channel. She was going to be fine, physically, but he could tell that she still was running the events in her head over and over, and that worried him. Mulder shut his laptop and went into the bathroom to change into his sleep clothes. After he finished washing up, he plopped down next to her and opened his report portfolio.

"Man, this is a nice bed. Must be at least…300-count sheets on this bad boy. And no cigarette burns! Did I do alright, Scully?"

She didn't even hear him. Her mind was worlds away in some old Norma Shearer comedy, immersed in the frivolous world of 1930s cinema, where all they had to worry about was bad manners and correct dinner dress. Deep down, Scully sometimes wished she could exist in one of those movies with a "…Gowns By" credit. Where girls never got chopped up in bathtubs, where nothing truly awful never happened. She vaguely sensed her partner shifting next to her, reading over the next case file.

"You going to be able to sleep tonight, Scout?" She kept staring, not reacting to the nickname.

"I'll try."

Mulder smiled and kissed her on the temple.

"Mulder…I'm glad you're here."

He winced. Her voice sounded so small and fragile, completely unlike the usual feisty, headstrong Scully he knew. She was a mess. She finally opened the sedative prescription the doctor had given her earlier in the day and downed it with the glass of water Mulder had left on the side table for her. Mulder knew that she really must be worked up to agree to take it, after all.

"Come on, settle in next to me, Scully." he whispered.

She thought about the events of the day, trying not to think of the smell of vanilla candles. The sickening sweet stench, something she once enjoyed to relax after a hard day's work, would now forever be tainted by the memory of Donnie Pfaster. But something didn't add up. She hadn't asked Mulder to come over that night, and she hadn't made the call in time before Donnie yanked her to the floor and bashed her head. How on earth did Mulder know to come? It was true the pair had an uncanny sixth sense between them, after many years of car rides, airplane trips, near-death experiences, and now the slow bloom of love – but she couldn't figure out how he knew. She finally asked, after nearly an hour of staring at the television.

"You gave me a sign, Scully." he responded quietly; matter-of-factly. "Or, technically, the radio did."

Scully turned and looked at him. "You're kidding."

"That stupid song. _Baba daaay-o, baba daaay-o_… When I was setting the alarm, my clock radio started playing it. Tell you the truth, I almost started laughing at first. But then something in the back of my head told me to check my messages before I went to sleep. I saw I had a missed call from you that was nothing but a slammed receiver, and couldn't get a hold of you after that. That's when I got really worried and motored over to your place. And that fucking song was running through my head the whole time."

A trace of a smile crept over her face. "So you DID believe me, after all. I'm not some 'religious nut job,' as you so eloquently put it." Mulder chuckled. Finally, a trace of humor. Scully was going to be okay.

"Fact is, that song saved your life, Scully. Too bad it wasn't one with a funkier bassline." Scully finally nudged him in the ribs.

"…Curtis Mayfield, Mulder? Or should I have been terrified of…Barry White?"

"No, not Barry!"

Scully snuggled closer to Mulder.

"I think that sedative's starting to kick in. This shit's fast. …I love you, Mulder."

"I love you."

He put his book down on the side table and put his arms around her, hugging her close to his chest. The rhythmic sound of his heartbeat and breathing calmed her down as she began to drift into slumber. Mulder held her tightly as he thought about the horror he felt when he saw Pfaster standing in Scully's living room. The blood splatter as her gun blasted through him. Her dazed look. She'd broken free of a hog tie; dragged herself across shards of broken mirror, suffered a bad nosebleed when her head hit the floor. But by god, Dana Scully had fought him hard. All 5'3" of her, like a hellcat. Of that, he was sure.

Just how close he'd come to losing her in those few short hours? Mulder couldn't bear to think of it. Instead, he thought about Scully the other night, in that beautiful royal blue dress at the film show, her soft lips crushed against his. He stroked her hair as she fell deeper asleep, her arms wrapped tightly around his chest.

Before he, too, fell into slumber, he kissed her hair softly.

_Will things always be like this for us? _ He wondered. _Constantly grabbing whatever little happiness we can find, forever running from the darkness? _

He daydreamed a little about a far away life he wished they could have together someday. A lovely old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. A dog, a big fluffy one that loved running around the yard. A little cat for Scully, a fireplace, a couple of kids running around, laughter, a comfy bed, a big old kitchen where they made delicious meals (Mulder was still hungry). A workshop for him to make furniture or something. Someplace rural and cozy and old, where nothing bad ever happened to them. And Scully curled up beside him at night, peaceful and content, just like she was right now.

Mulder realized he had never had that kind of fantasy about any woman before. Usually they were of the triple-x kind, especially with Scully. But as he gazed at his (now snoring) partner, he knew at that moment that he wanted to share a home with her. Maybe one day it would happen for them.

The horrific memories of Donnie Pfaster's attack began to evaporate into comforting, happy dreams of Mulder's imagination. Deep down, he knew it was Scully's presence that fended them off. For Mulder, haunted for years by night terrors and insomnia, that in itself counted as a true miracle.


	13. Signs and Wonders

Mulder and Scully sat in his hospital room, discussing the escape of the good reverend after the snake attack. Mulder was shaken by the incident. Never a religious man, the experience had shaken him to a state Scully had never seen him before. She didn't have much patience for evangelicals as it was, but after being attacked by snakes, Mulder had even less. Still, the drugs had him loopy and making weird connections in his mind.

"If this was some kinda test, it looks like I failed," he mused.

"I'd say, if it was, you passed with flying colors. You're alive, aren't you?"

"Proud and fancy-free." He flashed her a self-deprecating grin. The feeling in his face was slowly beginning to return, but he still felt like shit.

Scully smiled warmly at Mulder, wishing she could take his hand. As it was, his hands were currently healing from the venom. Just 48 hours earlier, Dana Scully found her partner writhing on a church kitchenette floor, with multiple rattlesnake bites. She got up and fixed his pillow so he was more comfortable. She also pulled out an official-looking Bureau envelope from her bag.

"This is from Skinner."

Mulder winced. It could be anything. "Can you show it to me, please? I can't hold anything right now."

Scully opened up the envelope and smiled when she pulled out the card. On the front was a picture of a snake charmer. Inside it said, "_This doesn't count as vacation time. Next time, try the Outer Banks." – A.D. Skinner."_

Mulder chuckled. Scully placed the card on his side table and brushed his hair with her hand. She kissed him on the forehead. Mulder was terribly sore and doped up from the incident.

"…Well, Mulder, the good news is that the doctor said you should make a full recovery in a couple of days. I'd say you'll be out of here by Thursday. Miracles do happen. Your body is healing faster than anything they'd ever seen snakebite-related. Guess your guardian angel must have been working overtime. Or they were phantom snakes. I don't even know, anymore."

Mulder shrugged. He knew what she meant. The whole incident had been so strange. Woman birthing snakes? Creepy cult people with candles? Allegations of incest? It was all so bizarre. _Fitting that it happened in the South_, he mused.

Scully sadly informed Mulder that she was booked for a flight back to Dulles later that afternoon. She hated the idea of leaving him alone in that lonely hospital, but she had no choice – official business. She'd brought in his suitcase so he'd have a change of clothes when he got discharged.

"I'll be fine, Scully. I'll be home in a couple of days, good as new." He raised his eyebrows, with a glimmer of mischief.

Scully smiled weakly. Since they'd finally admitted their feelings for each other, it seemed like there had been nonstop forces keeping apart or beating them down, preventing it from happening. Granted, it had only been a few weeks since New Year's Eve, and they'd made a pact - but in that time span, Scully had been attacked by Donnie Pfaster, they were stuck on another bullshit detail in California, and now Mulder was swollen up like a beachball with snakebites. They'd only had one glorious night out together on a real date, at the film festival. For all the time the two agents spent together at work, they still regretted that those precious few hours of personal time had been cut short. But for now, those regrets would have to be put aside. Mulder had to get better, and Scully had another autopsy scheduled at 4:00.

"Great, I'll keep occupied with Oregon Trail in the meantime," she quipped. "What's next in our bizarre journey, Mulder? Dysentery?"

"At this rate, who knows? Awww, Scully, I'll make this up to you, I promise. You just wait. When I feel better, you and I, we're going somewhere calm and relaxing. How about Rhode Island? Quonochauntaug is nice in early spring."

"I'd love that, Mulder. But you just concentrate on getting better for now, okay? I have to catch my flight back." She kissed him on the top of his head.

"Scully?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"Oh, brother." She laughed, remembering that night of the Bermuda Triangle, and kissed him softly on the lips. Poor Mulder. His jaw was still sore, and his mind began to swim as the painkillers kicked in.

Before she left, Scully turned on the TV for him, since his hands and arms were still too swollen to operate the remote. An old rerun of "Little House on the Prairie" was on. She tried flipping through the channels, but it was either that or the shopping network. Nothing else was coming through.

"Sorry, Charlie. Looks like this is what you've got," she laughed.

"It'll do. Safe travels," he replied.

"You, too." She gave him a little wave.

And she was gone.


	14. Book of Revelations

_Mulder's coming unglued. This is going to break him._

Dana Scully wheeled the remains of Teena Mulder's body out of the cooler and began the worst autopsy of her life. She'd autopsied slime balls, possible aliens, murdered teens - all with detachment and professionalism. Working on Mrs. Mulder was enormously difficult. With each cut, she imagined the pain searing through Mulder's heart. The session's cassette tape was full of pauses and sniffles as she stopped every so often to try and keep from crying. Part of her deeply resented Mulder for asking her to do this, but the rest of her knew deep down that if she didn't, he would refuse to believe the truth. And the truth was necessary to move on and heal. The last thing Mulder needed was another family mystery, shrouded in paranoia against the shadow government.

As she worked, Dana Scully tried to remember the last time she spoke with Teena Mulder. At least a year ago, it had to be? She couldn't even remember anymore. Oh, that's right. She spoke with her once when Mulder's mother had called his cell on that case in Fredericksburg. Mulder was busy with the sheriff, and Scully exchanged a nice hello and promised to have Mulder call her back.

Scully never really got to know Teena Mulder, outside of either tragedy or panic. Mrs Mulder was always kind to her, but never exactly one to socialize. The most time she'd ever spent with her was the time Mulder went out of his mind on that hallucinogen and tore off, leaving her stranded in Greenwich at Mrs Mulder's home for three hours.

-o0o-

_After some time of cooling off, Teena came downstairs to find Scully in the sitting room, her head in her hands. Her cellphone was in the car, too. She had no way of reaching Mulder._

"_Where's Fox?" she asked, sharply._

"_Gone," replied Scully. "He took off. I'm so sorry."_

_Teena stood staring out the window for a moment, wondering if her son would come back. Both women knew he wouldn't be back for some time._

"_Can you please give me an explanation for this disruption?" asked the silver-haired lady. "I need some answers out of you. What right do you have, showing up in my home with my son?"_

"_Mrs Mulder, your son is under a highly potent hallucinogen. It was my fault that we came here. He insisted we do so, and I didn't want him to drive alone, considering the circumstances."_

_Her stern face relaxed a little as she realized that Miss Scully was helping her son, not ganging up on her. Those stiff-upper-lip Yankee manners shone forth, despite the raw emotional turmoil of twenty minutes ago. "You look like you could use a cup of tea, Miss Scully."_

"_Actually, that would be really nice, if you don't mind." replied Dana. "It's been a rough day or two."_

_Scully's stomach sank in embarrassment as she sat in the kitchen with Mrs Mulder as she put on the electric kettle, and explained what happened. The seizure, the findings on reports, the murder-suicide. Scully was surprised at how much she discussed with Mulder's mother. Never exactly one for maternal instinct, Mrs Mulder had always come across as rather frosty and aloof in the past. Now, with her deeply-buried emotions bared raw in front of a relative stranger, Mrs Mulder felt, ironically, a little more relaxed. _

"_I'm sorry I snapped at you, Miss Scully. And Fox, as well. I guess you can't imagine how strange it is for him to show up out of the blue and start screaming at me. Earl Grey or oolong?"_

"_I do understand, Mrs. Mulder. Earl Grey is fine, thank you."_

"_You may call me Teena." Teena brought over their mugs of tea, and really looked at this Dana Scully for the first time. She was around the same age that Samantha would have been…she sighed, purging the thought from her mind. Miss Scully was a nice young lady._

"_Ah, thank you," said Scully, sipping the tea gratefully. "This is very good. You can call me Dana, if you like." Mrs Mulder smiled and nodded, then replied matter-of-factly,_

"_I'm afraid Fox has these bursts of temper that manifest themselves sometimes. He's always been like that. He worries me sometimes."_

"_I'm aware. We've been…worked together for a long time. I do understand that he has his reasons for them." Whoops. Foot in mouth, Dana Scully. She faltered a little under Teena Mulder's stare, which was quickly frosting over._

"_So you know, then?" Teena asked, curtly. "Fox told you."_

"_I'm so sorry." Scully's eyes moistened as she concentrated on sipping from the teacup, wishing the floor would swallow her whole. She didn't know what Mrs Mulder was going to say next. This situation was highly tense, and Scully's first instinct was to flee Mrs Mulder's stinkeye._

_Instead, Mrs Mulder rested her hand on Scully's, ever so briefly. Dana suddenly saw that familiar deep, compassionate look that Mulder inherited from her. Whatever differences they had, whatever personality clashes they battled, Fox Mulder was the spitting image of his mother. Under her armor of genteel deflection, Teena was just as deeply emotional and vulnerable as her son, and his appearance today had worn her thin in just twenty short seconds._

"_Thank you," she whispered to Scully. "Fox forgets sometimes that he wasn't the only one."_

_Scully nodded. She didn't want to pry any further into his family history. It was none of her business; this was Mulder's heartache. Still, she felt deeply for Mulder's mother. This deeply dysfunctional family; the loss of a sibling, something she knew too well. Parental fights? Scully knew that anxiety, too. At least Scully had the luxury of closure in her family tragedy. This family was irrevocably damaged._

_Teena went to the cupboard and found a tin of Danish butter cookies to have with the tea. Despite the rude intrusion of them both, this friend of her son's seemed like a very kind woman. She could clearly see that Miss Scully cared about Fox deeply. _

_As the petite redhead spoke with her about working with Fox and being his friend for the past four years, Teena realized what she has suspected for some time: they deeply loved each other. Her infrequent conversations with Fox were peppered with excited stories about what he and Scully did, what Scully said, what Scully thought. When Scully had cancer, Fox was inconsolable. And Teena found herself growing to like this woman more and more. She wasn't a simpering bitch like that Diana woman Fox had gotten entangled with some years ago. She had a nice way about her. Teena knew that no matter what happened to her, Fox would be fine with this sensible, strong young woman in his life. It gave her a sense of relief. _

_Teena immediately set aside that faint glimmer of hope for her son's happiness. For now, Fox had to pull his selfish, stubborn head out of his ass._

"_I'm sure you must be horribly embarrassed. I can see it in your face," she finally said. "Don't worry. It's fine. I'm used to Fox's outbursts. I'm glad he has you for a friend. Lord knows he needs friends."_

-o0o-

Teena's words that long-ago afternoon haunted Dana. Mrs Mulder had tumors all through her body; so many that Scully stopped counting after ten. Their presence confirmed the doctors' reports that Mulder had found in her trashcan. The woman had been very sick. Finding incontrovertible proof of what she already knew made it all the harder. She was going to have to tell Mulder the truth: that his mother committed suicide. She concluded her findings on the cassette, and turned off the machine and the overhead lamp. Dr. Tremaine would be back soon.

She gently brushed Teena's beautiful silver hair from her forehead, as she would have done with her own mother.

"I'm so sorry, Teena," she whispered, the tears rushing to her face. "I hope, wherever you are, you have found peace. I'll always look out for him." She sniffled as she zipped up the bag. She wondered if Mulder had it together enough to arrange for burial yet.

_I'm gonna need a drink, _she thought, dreading the drive back to Alexandria. Mulder was going to be a mess. One thing she did know, whatever she said to Mulder would be final.

She knocked on Mulder's door, and entered his dark apartment. His living room was a mess: a pizza box, papers and manila folders scattered everywhere. Mulder looked a wreck.

She finally told him the truth about Teena's death. As predicted, Mulder flashed through the usual comfort of denial, until Scully persisted gently with the details of why. This was no mystery, no second Samantha case, no conspiracy. Teena was already terminal, and couldn't bear to be a burden on her only living child. As in life, Teena met death with what grace and dignity she could muster. Mulder collapsed in Scully's arms and sobbed like a child.

They sat there on the floor, clinging to each other, crying for what seemed an eternity. Their throats sore from the lumps in them, the tears drying on their faces. Mulder finally whispered into Scully's ear, his voice shaking.

"I'm alone, Scully."

"No. You have me. I'm here for the long haul."

He collapsed into her, crying as if his heart would break. She'd never seen him this bad before. He was crying for them all, this time. Mother, father, sister, all gone from his life. The sheer enormity of this had reduced her partner into utter despair.

Scully helped him into his bedroom, at last. She walked to the bathroom and splashed water on her face. Her eyes were puffy and red. She wrung out a clean washcloth with cool water for him. Mulder lay on his bed staring forward blankly. She handed him the cloth. He slowly ran it over his cheeks, then his forehead, and threw it to the floor.

"There's a piece of the puzzle that is still haunting me about Samantha and this case. There has to be a connection with my sister. I need to know."

She dropped down beside him and put her arms around him. He buried his face in her hair, kissing her tenderly, rubbing her back in small circles.

"Scully, I…I can't begin to tell you what I means that you took care of my mother today. I don't know how I can make it up to you. I'm so sorry I asked. But I had to know."

"I wanted you to be sure." She looked up at his face and stroked his hair gently. "I also needed to know, for myself. In a weird way, I'm honored to have been with her, for both your sakes."

"Oh, Scully." Tears began to stream down his face again. "Scully. I don't know how to plan a funeral. I wasn't even there for my own father's. I don't know if I can call my relatives. How can I face them? How can I tell my uncles and cousins that Mom died that way? Or deal with their looks of pity again? I had to deal with that when Samantha disappeared. It's the worst feeling."

"Mulder, they don't need to know how." He nodded slowly. He hadn't seen half these people in years; his mother was close with only one aunt in Seattle. He knew he had about 12 cousins, but only ever knew maybe 3 of them.

"Can you help me with her obituary?"

"Sure."

They went into the dining room. He got out a tablet and pen. After a while, he scrawled out most of the final encomium to his mother.

_Elizabeth "Teena" Mulder of Greenwich passed away peacefully at home, on February 6__th__, 2000. She was born 5 January 1941 in Raleigh, NC, to the late Richard and Rebecca (née Fox) Kuiper. She attended Bryn Mawr. In 1960, she married William Mulder, and had two children: Fox William and Samantha Ann. Mrs. Mulder was a devoted member of St. Andrew's Episcopal Church. She is also survived by two brothers, William Kuipers of Raleigh; and Michael Kuipers of Philadelphia; two sisters, Margaret Bryson of Seattle, and Madeline Adams of Raleigh, and their families._

"…I don't know what else to write," he said, putting his head in his hands. "I realize now I barely knew anything about Mom."

She read over his scribble. "This is fine. I guess just add in the date and time of the service. Hmm. I never realized Fox was a family name," she said, looking over the paper. Now it makes more sense."

"Yeah, that was Granny's maiden name," Mulder explained, chuckling a little. "That side of the family was really wealthy. She made me take piano lessons when I was in third grade. It was miserable. I could barely hammer out _Chopsticks_."

"I have to admit, I wondered sometimes what possessed your parents to name you Fox."

"Less a perverse sense of uniqueness and more a sense of WASPiness. My mother's family owned a clothing chain down South, Fox & Co. I was named after them to make up for the fact that Mom eloped so young." He walked over to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a small box of snapshots. He pulled out a photo of his mother at about age 18, beautiful and poised. "Here's her debutante portrait. I'll use this." He held the photo, gripping the edges tighter. "Samantha looked so much like her," he choked.

After a couple of hours helping Mulder sort out Mrs Mulder's paperwork, Scully put her head down on the table, intending only to rest her eyes for a moment. She awoke around 8:00 to hear Mulder in his room, sniffling. He hadn't slept at all.

She heard a knock at the door and wandered over sleepily to answer it. Skinner was the last face she really wanted to see after this awful night.

"Hi," said Skinner, meeting Scully's death glare.

"Hi."

"How's he doing?"

"It's been a hard night for him," replied Scully, testily.

"Billie LaPierre is asking for him. She has something to say, and she'll only talk to Mulder."

"It's not a good time – " she responded, as Mulder appeared behind her.

"What is it?" asked Mulder.

"This case has heated up. I've booked two flights for us."

Mulder nodded, and looked at Scully. She shook her head. Scully knew full well he was in no shape to deal with this high-profile, highly-emotional LaPierre case. He walked into his room to pack. Scully glared at Skinner, making it clear that this was a very bad idea.

"Well, then, you'd better book three." Skinner got the message, directed her to meet him at 1:00 at Gate 23, and left. Scully went into Mulder's room to chew him out.

"Look, Scully. I can't abandon this case. Not now, not after what I went through to get involved."

"You are in no emotional state to even comprehend…"

"The last message Mom left me had to do with this case. I can't let the LaPierres live a life the way I've had to, without answers. Without finding her."

"This is an awful mistake, Mulder."

"Well, it's mine to make," he responded. He nodded toward the door. "You'd better go home and pack, if you're coming along. I'll pick you up at noon."

She grabbed her blazer and left in a fury. She knew why Mulder responded the way he did – he had that shitty stubborn "duty first" streak that he probably inherited from Teena – but she was angry with Skinner for even showing up in the first place. Bullshit, Mulder wasn't a robot. Mulder was a goddamn mess, in need of some time alone. _Fucking bastard, _she thought, punching Skinner in her mind. Square in the jaw.


End file.
